


If We Get Through This, It'll Be A Miracle

by N0S0CKS, p0rk



Series: Liebchen [1]
Category: Hogan's Heroes
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Awkward situations, Bisexual Character, D/s, Dissociation, Graphic Depictions of War, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Light BDSM, M/M, Oral Sex, Past Relationship(s), Past Violence, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Slurs, past trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-21
Updated: 2017-10-15
Packaged: 2019-01-01 05:57:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 27,654
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12150102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/N0S0CKS/pseuds/N0S0CKS, https://archiveofourown.org/users/p0rk/pseuds/p0rk
Summary: After a long period of stress, Hogan's impatience creates a rift between his men. Nearing a breaking point, he acts on a whim and accepts Klink's offer of dinner. Through the course of their first evening together Hogan discovers a painful truth about himself that changes everything. The thin line he walks with his kommandant becomes thinner.If this work's tags seem difficult, each chapter's endnotes contain detailed summaries with warnings and spoilers. Explicit sexual content is mostly in later chapters.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> In an effort to make this fic accessible to everyone we'll be posting detailed summaries in the endnotes of each chapter. The summaries may contain spoilers and may mention or describe the sensitive material listed in the work's tags. Some details in this story may be non-compliant with canon. Thank you for reading! We love feedback!

Flames lapped at the night sky and debris and ash rained all over the compound. Colonel Hogan leaned a shoulder against the door frame and watched the frenzy from Barracks 2, his arms crossed, his face betraying no emotion. From where he stood he could hear the kommandant’s voice as it rose with the heat of the fire, demanding to find the man responsible. His shrill tone was more vicious than the perpetually ringing alarm that only served to add to the chaos of the situation.

“You’re makin’ a mistake if you do it, Colonel,” Newkirk spoke from inside the barracks. “You turn him over to the krauts, you’re a ruddy traitor.”

Hogan turned around slowly, peeling his gaze away from the fire, which was at last beginning to smolder as the guards frantically set up hoses and sprayed down the burning rec hall. He fixed his eyes pointedly at the corporal.

“I’m going to act like I didn’t hear you say that,” Hogan said in a low tone, matching Newkirk’s sour expression. “Don’t forget how much is at stake. If he’s reported as missing it could blow the whole operation.” With that thought he hoped Kinch was making some progress talking to Carter wherever he’d gone to hide in the tunnels.

“He is not a well boy.” Now LeBeau piped up, to which Newkirk tutted in agreement like an old lady. Hogan desperately wanted to respond, to assure them that he wasn’t just like every other CO they’d had, but he was too thrown off by their behavior to find the right thing to say. Somehow he had a feeling that nothing would be the right thing to say to them now.

Finally he tried, “And I suppose you think I’m the one who made him that way?”

“Nobody’s sayin’ that,” Newkirk spoke stiffly, intentionally. “But, well, you’ve an habit of saying the worst things in front of us at roll call right before we’re supposed to try an’ sleep.”

Hogan’s heart sank. The answer wasn’t exactly reassuring. “In other words, it’s not my fault, but it’s my fault?”

“Colonel,” LeBeau was the first to break. “You did not know. At Stalag 5, the Germans force-fed them during a hunger strike.” He shook his head sadly. “He is not well now, because of what you said. He didn’t know what he was doing.”

 

Outside Klink screamed an order and the ringing alarm stopped. Hogan closed his eyes and berated himself during the brief silence. It all made perfect sense. He’d seen the horrified look on Carter’s face after they’d been dismissed from roll call. Klink had been in a foul mood and was making shallow threats. Hogan had jumped on it and started an argument in front of his men. When Klink suggested that he might have his men cut their rations with sawdust, Hogan’s natural response was that they’d have to force-feed it to them.

Hogan glanced over his shoulder. The rec hall was now steaming and creaking as the wet, burned wood settled on itself. Klink was calling the guards together to begin searching the barracks.

“Why doesn’t anyone tell _me_ any of this?” Hogan slammed the door and crossed the room to the trick bunk. He pounded on the side harder than he needed to activate the trap door and called down into the tunnel entrance. “Kinch, you’d better wrap it up down there. Look, I’m sorry to keep pushing you guys, but they’re gonna start coming into the barracks now.”

“We’re coming, Colonel,” Kinch’s voice echoed back.

“Why don’t you guys tell me these things?” Hogan repeated, turning back to face Newkirk and LeBeau, neither of whom could meet his eyes. “I’m the senior ranking officer. Why is it you both knew that about him and I didn’t?”

“As for Carter, he probably didn’t tell you because it was his senior officer what started the hunger strike at Stalag 5.” Newkirk said. “All due respect, sir, but you’re an officer. That’s all.”

Hogan wondered if that was supposed to mean they didn’t trust him despite everything they’d been through together, but he stopped himself from asking it aloud as Carter at last appeared, shaking, climbing up the ladder. He stood rigidly in the barracks, his eyes trained on the floor. Kinch followed and the trap door closed as soon as the front door flew open and Schultz came in to arrest Carter.

 

 

A night’s rest did not prove to help Hogan's men forgive him. Even Kinch wouldn’t speak to him in the morning, and the whole lot of them made a show of leaving Carter’s usual space empty during roll call. Klink’s nasty mood had been severely worsened by the fire and he’d sentenced Carter to 30 days in solitary confinement. Hogan had not slept. The insides of his eyelids seemed to be etched with the image of Carter’s doomed expression as he was dragged away that night. He couldn’t blame his men for being upset for the poor kid.

“Do you guys think I don’t care?” He said into the silent barracks. Nobody spoke. Everybody stared into his coffee or settled somberly into his bunk. “What was I supposed to do? Hide him in the tunnels until the end of the war? Send him to London and screw up the arrangement? And just what would that spot on Klink’s record do to our operation?”

Kinch cleared his throat at the uncomfortable silence.

“What about you, Kinch? Did you know about what happened to him before last night?” Hogan asked, circling the table to stand beside him. “Did you?”

“Yeah,” Kinch said softly, giving in. “I didn’t know he’d never told you. I would’ve said something. You know that’s the truth.”

“Well, that’s helpful,” Hogan replied, crossing his arms.

“Innit cute, Louis?” Newkirk said sarcastically to LeBeau. “Thinks it's our fault 'cause we can't talk to him. Americans always wanna make it about _their_ side of it. No offence, Kinch.”

Something broke in Hogan. He circled back around the table and grabbed Newkirk by the collar of his flight jacket and jerked him to his feet.

“I’m getting really tired of this insubordination,” he said through gritted teeth. “I get it, you’re mad at me because I wouldn't hide him. Even though half of the guys in this camp saw him start that fire and the krauts would’ve torn this place apart looking for him. But keep going, get yourself a court martial over this.” Newkirk’s unthreatened, almost patronizing smirk irritated him enough to foolishly add, “Fucking limey.” Now he was the one getting out of control. He didn't know where it was coming from.

“Ah, fellas.” Kinch was at their sides in an instant, a strong hand on each of their shoulders. “We’ve all been under a lot of pressure. Every last one of us. I’m sure the Colonel’s been working on a plan. Hasn’t he?”

Hogan knew that tone of voice. Kinch was smarter than to start a fight over this, but like the others he still expected Hogan to somehow atone for doing the only thing he could have done. Newkirk moved to adjust his collar as soon as Hogan released him, muttering a string of curses under his breath.

“I’ll talk to the kommandant,” Hogan sighed. “I tried talking to him last night, too, you know. I do a lot for you guys that goes unspoken around here. And this is the thanks I get for it? This isn’t like us!” Indeed, it wasn't like _him_.

 

He couldn’t bear to stand around and wait for their retort, so he stormed out of the barracks, slamming the door behind him on the way out. He avoided looking at the blackened, crumbling frame of what used to be the rec hall. His hands nearly shook with frustration. Certainly he cared and worried for Carter, and he knew the young man’s fascination with explosions and destruction was probably something along the lines of a cry for help. He’d laid awake in his bunk that night, berating himself for being so careless about how he acted in front of his men. He shouldn’t have been arguing with Klink in front of them to begin with. What a mess!

Even if they didn’t trust him enough to tell him their stories, he knew how many of them had spent time at other prison camps. It was very likely that more of them had been hurt or tortured in some way. He thought about poor Carter being hurt at Stalag 5 and hot tears nearly clouded his vision. But what he would admit was that it still didn’t make him forgive Carter for doing something as stupid as burning down the rec hall just because he heard somebody mention something awful that had happened to him once. If Carter wasn’t the best tech sergeant available out here, he’d half a mind to drop him from the team for having such a low stress threshold.

“Let me in, I need to see Colonel Klink.” Hogan blew past Hilda at her desk, but she rose to meet him at the door to Klink’s office, blocking him from entering.

“The kommandant is very busy. He says he has a headache. All morning, he’s on the phone with General Burkhalter. About the fire, of course.” Hilda sounded less than concerned about Klink’s struggle. “If I let you in, he will be very angry with me. He hasn't approved my vacation yet.”

Hogan grabbed her by the waist and pressed a hasty kiss against her neck. There was no way he had the patience for this little game today. “I’ll make it up to you, baby. Let me in.” He tried a smile and knew it came out perfectly phony.

“I don’t want a kiss from you. I want a pound of coffee,” she said, returning his dry grin. “Only that. For you, it should not be too much trouble?”

He wished that there was a wartime exception regarding chivalry, because he could have slapped her just then. How could he think such a thing? When had this gotten into him? Instead he rolled his eyes and pushed her aside, ignoring her offended gasp and pushing into Klink’s office. Whatever had broken in him before was cracking again. Of course Hilda could only think to use him as well. Between the favors he pulled for her and for his men, he couldn’t help but wonder whether anyone in this camp actually liked him beyond the things he could get for them.

 

“Colonel Hogan! Get out of my office at once!” Klink snapped as soon as he saw him. “I’ve been so busy apologizing to Berlin on the phone all morning, I haven’t even begun to address the paperwork created by this whole mess!”

“Why don’t you take that paperwork and sit on it?” Hogan barked back. It seemed to stun Klink into a moment’s silence. He could not say what had come over him, but he continued to yell while Klink sat dumbly behind his desk. “You think _you’ve_ had a bad morning? Are your men still talking to you? Mine are calling me a traitor and picking fights with me because I let you take Sergeant Carter. They’re treating me like it’s my fault! Worst of all, I’m paying them too much mind because I’m starting to think maybe it _is_.”

Klink did not speak, but his expression softened. Hogan realized that he was simply listening. He wasn’t sure how to respond to the gesture, so he went on. “You wanna know why he did it? Because _your people_ at Stalag 5 force-fed the poor kid, and when I said that stupid stuff at roll call last night he got himself all... worked up.” He gave up and dropped into the chair on the far side of Klink’s desk. “Can you understand?”

 _Yes and no_ , Klink wanted to say but the silence was far too weighted between them for him to respond immediately. Instead he lifted his chin off of his folded hands and sat back, his arms settling to rest flat against the desk. Beneath his hands there was more paperwork than time. Why did the liability of someone else's actions have to fall into his hands?

“You are his superior officer. You should have considered this when you opened your mouth.” Klink's thoughts were turbulent inside of his mind. The whole night was still fresh in his head—not to mention the fiery ash raining down on him in the compound had charred a clean uniform. Remembering that, the last of his patience began slipping from him.  
  
“I wish I had the time to see it from your side, Colonel Hogan.” His words wobbled in that same sibilating tone he had when he was silently furious. Softened was his expression but not his opinion of anything Hogan had to say. “I suspect you are here to negotiate with me to release Carter from his confinement. Must you always contest me?” Klink grabbed a ream of papers and looked over them just so he wouldn't have to stare into Hogan's angry eyes. He knew it had been just as much his own fault as it had been Hogan's but he wasn't ready to deal with it. Not now. Especially if nothing came of it (and he knew it wouldn't). “—and for the record  _my_  people were here, taking care of their own charges. Don't you put this on me, Hogan. I've given you many opportunities and I have been quite fair."   
  
And he had been, in his opinion. He had never force-fed his prisoners. He would never dream of doing such a thing! The Cooler was a cakewalk compared to the kind of punishment Carter  _could_  have received at Stalag 13. He wasn't sure if Hogan was truly suggesting that the kommandant was capable of such things but he didn’t have the time or inclination to argue with a prisoner about it. Klink rubbed his left temple where he perched his monocle for the better half of his day. 

  
  
“Anywhere else and he could have been shot dead hours ago. You know that as well as I.” Now it was festering in him, Klink dropped his paperwork and put both hands on the desk as he rose up out of his seat while fixing his eyes onto Hogan with a dissatisfied scowl. “Don't play me Hogan, I am not in the mood for your games today. Why haven’t you left my office yet?” He huffed, eyes lit with silent rage. His anger was misdirected but mostly because he was trying not to be so mad at Hogan about it. He would much rather counsel him about it if the man would give him the chance, but how was he to do that? Hogan had never given him an inch of respect in his career here at Stalag 13— him and everyone else that considered Klink to be an idiot. 

Hogan found himself struggling to scowl at Klink despite everything. The men didn’t trust him because he was an officer—perhaps it was the untrustworthy side of him that sympathized just so slightly with Klink. Certainly the morning had been harder on him than it showed. Hogan wondered in that moment if Burkhalter or the Gestapo would be paying their little corner of paradise a visit sometime soon because of the fire. As much as everyone got a kick out of watching Klink suck up to the brass, Hogan was beginning to lose his taste for watching Klink sweat. His men were heroes, but they didn’t know what it was like to sweat like that. He did.

“I’m sorry, Kommandant. I get it, really.” Hogan said, the words awkward coated in such sincerity. “Once upon a time I thought a drill sergeant screaming in my face was the worst thing that could happen to me. That was until I’d had a _general_  screaming in my face." He moved to plunk his hat casually onto the spike of Klink’s pickelhaube but stopped himself. Maybe he was under too much pressure, he thought. They’d been so busy, and so many of their assignments had barely come together lately. Then to have his men turn around and act like fickle children during a crisis— he wondered if he was nearing a breaking point. Sadly, it seemed Klink was the closest thing he had to an ally today.

 

Now Hogan found himself avoiding Klink’s gaze. He knew he used Klink; he took advantage of the man’s every weakness. He’d been trusted with so many of his secrets and turned nearly every single one of them against him. Perhaps it was guilt, or the knowledge of said secrets that made him uneasy when he at last met Klink’s eyes. Above all was the damning, dangerous secret that Hogan had never used to blackmail or ridicule Klink, the one he’d never stooped to telling his men for a laugh, but that he leaned on every time he wanted to beat Klink by force of will.

Hogan offered a soft smile which Klink silently returned, and he wondered if he was doing it again, unconsciously. Giving Klink false hope. Leading him on despite spurning his first and only proposition. The difference now was that Hogan didn’t care to subtly flirt his way through yet another irritating negotiation, earning special privileges with winks and silent touches—for men who forgot it as soon as they got mad at him. If only those jerks knew how far he stuck his neck out for them, how deeply he manipulated Klink under their very noses. Today, he decided, if he was going to flirt with Klink, it was going to be for himself, for the pleasure of flirting.

“I’ve probably never said this in any of our dealings, so I’ll say it now. Thank you, for the things you do for my men.” He spoke as honestly as he could. Hogan’s stomach turned but he forced the words out. It was as exhausting as lying, perhaps more so. Still, he continued. “I’m used to doing favors for everyone around me. I know you can understand the feeling. Tell you the truth, Kommandant, I can’t remember the last time somebody did something for me and didn’t expect something in return.” Hogan contemplated it a moment longer and placed his hat over Klink’s helmet after all. But he tried an honest smile again and stifled his bitterness when he added, “It’s a rough day when I communicate easier with the enemy than with my own men.”

It was enough to halt Klink's perceptibly-climbing bad mood, enough to flick his eyes up to Hogan's with a seriousness which matched Hogan's sincerity.  _Do you mean it?_  He wanted to ask but didn't because at this point it would have sounded more like a challenge. Klink simply bit his tongue instead of responding. Hogan continued on with a story that sounded too much like his own.

“Replace the drill sergeant with my father and we'd have something in common.” He decided to say, which he immediately regretted. The cringe he gave was enough for Hogan to know it wasn't wise to ask questions. He was not one to disclose too much information about himself if any at all. The things that the colonel knew about him were incriminating enough, and too many times had Hogan used that information to get his way. Remembering this, Klink clenched his jaw and looked down at the paperwork in his hands. When Hogan didn't continue with some kind of proposal he too decided to try a different approach as well.   
  
“It really is a pity when everyone chooses to blame you for everything isn't it? This I know, especially when there is never a reprieve from it.” He smiled the same well-practiced smile he used on everybody. He knew he was hated. The whole community disliked him, his superiors disliked him, the entire  _world_  disliked him. Sometimes Klink didn't feel human anymore. By the end of the day none of this was real and even he knew it— he'd rather be somewhere else in a different time, far away from Stalag 13 and from everyone that was here with him.

“We are all trapped here, so we must make the best of it.” He removed his monocle to polish it and settled into his chair once more with a well-practiced scowl. That is when Hogan smiled a rare smile, one that made the kommandant return it with one of his own, one that was so genuine the monocle fell from its place. Quickly Klink moved to fix it and jam it back up against his eye, cheeks flushing the slightest bit. Whenever Hogan chose to flirt with him it was a problem. A problem because whether or not the man was toying with him, it delighted Klink to receive this particular type of attention, especially from his favorite (occasionally, _least_ favorite) prisoner.   
  
Something inside of him warmed as the colonel continued to— what Klink felt—be open with him. It was easy to fool such an easy target. Klink, a man despised by most, only ever craved a companionship that fit this complicated life that he had now. When he was a child, things were that much easier. Even as a young man, he never faced the trials he did today. Especially now with Hogan sitting at the end of his desk, luring him probably— but Klink would be that fool to fall for it. He always would be.   
  
Then Hogan had to take it farther by thanking him, and that was when Klink could no longer hold his guffaw in. It was kind enough, not cruel, his expression joyous as he shook his finger at the colonel in good fun.

“There it is! Nice try Hogan, last time you said that to me your barracks exploded. Don't think I have forgotten, last month's expenses certainly haven't.” He chuckled some more and decided it was time to close his affairs for the day. “If you would like to properly thank me then come to my quarters tonight for dinner. I will be more than willing to discuss Carter's fate with you if you do.” His voice was scintillating in its own way, an underlying promise disguised by the way he spoke his words. Klink knew by the look on Hogan's face that he must be assuming the worst of the kommandant but his suspicions did not rise without reason. Quickly he added, “—for  _dinner_ , of course.” He reiterated quite firmly. 

Hogan’s smile dropped quickly at the mention of dinner. His brow felt heavy and he made sure Klink could see the foreboding in his eyes.

Klink found himself unable to answer his own questions as to why he would do such a thing for Hogan. The man had done nothing but make his job increasingly more difficult as the days went by, to the point that Klink was  _sure_  he was going mad from it all. “You decide. Now get out, I am very busy.” He asserted, trying not to collapse in on himself for being such a fool. “And Hogan, if you should decide to come, wear something a little nicer, won't you?”

“I see.” He snatched up his hat quickly, tucked it under his arm like he was protecting it from something. His stomach felt like it’d dropped into his shoes. He could’ve sworn at Klink and called him a dozen foul names, even though this particular proposition was far less aggressive than the first.

 

Hogan’s mind immediately shifted to memories of the first night at Stalag 13. He’d been impressed by Klink’s English vocabulary and little else. Even though his head was still spinning from the interrogations, he’d sized the Colonel up and could tell Klink had done the same. The kommandant’s scrutinizing expression turned soft and sad at the bruises on Hogan’s face. Both men were guarded, but Klink seemed unaware of the threat that had just entered his camp. Hogan could see through him so easily, he’d pondered whether Klink was a homosexual even before the proposition.

 " _I like you, Colonel Hogan. I am not a man who can be easily bought, mind you, but—I would not be opposed to having an_ arrangement _with you…”_ Klink had said, grinning a little luridly at him through the door to his private cell in the cooler. _“If you should pay me the occasional visit in my quarters, you could live very handsomely for the rest of the war…”_

Hogan had been a little more disdainful of Germans at that moment in his life having recently had a few of his ribs broken by the boot of one. He wanted to spit through that little window and aim for the monocle, tell the fairy Kraut to sit on a swastika, but his instinct told him to wait—somehow he knew he needed this one in his best graces. Keeping Klink guessing seemed like a useful idea, even at the time.

Instead, he said _, “Nice try, Kommandant, but I’m not that kind of sweetheart. I have a better idea—How about you let me out of this box so I can stretch my legs for the first time in a month, and I won’t tell that fat little general of yours next time he comes by that he’s got a pervert running his ‘toughest’ prison camp.”_ Strategy, Hogan, he warned himself, and then calmly bluffed, _“The audacity… Even if you do cut a striking silhouette in that shade of grey…”_

 

Now he wondered if it had all been a mistake. He’d thought he could keep the situation under control, but maybe he’d gotten carried away. He’d given Klink the wrong idea. Certainly he’d read too much into Klink’s kind expression.

“And why do you think I would want to have dinner with you? Just to be used by you too?” Hogan said, surprised again by his own words. There was a moment’s pause, they stared at each other and Hogan found himself unable to get properly angry about the issue at hand. “I don’t want to be asked to dinner just so I can spend a nice evening bargaining for another man’s privileges.”

Hogan stood from the chair. Why couldn’t he make himself cringe thinking about a candlelit dinner with Klink? He should’ve stormed out of the office long ago. Then again, he also knew that if Klink really was a dangerous degenerate with the intention of hurting him, it would have happened long ago.

What was he thinking? He wasn’t just under too much pressure, he was going stir crazy as well.

“Anyway, I told you once before and I’ll tell you again. I’m not interested in making deals that way. I don’t stoop that low. Even if I did come to see you, I would insist that Schultz be there. As my chaperone.” A twinkle in Klink’s eyes suggested that he could hear the hesitation in Hogan’s voice. He immediately regretted it, but he slowly began to backpedal. Hogan promised himself he was still in control, that he could back out whenever he wanted. He gave in, telling himself it was only for the potential opportunity further down the road. “I won’t even consider negotiating for anything, got it? I leave as soon as I feel uncomfortable, and I pour my own drinks. Those are my conditions. Now, if that’s all, Kommandant…”

Klink offered a smug salute. “Please, Colonel, be on time?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains slurs/rude language. Hogan describes violent intrusive thoughts and actions. Mentions of war brutalities.
> 
> Carter starts a fire after getting triggered by Hogan's argument with Klink. Hogan is stressed and acts out of character; he feels underappreciated. Hogan argues with Newkirk and expresses impatience with Carter for being sensitive. Hogan tries to pick a fight with Klink and recalls an incident when Klink inappropriately propositioned him. Klink lets him vent and is respectful so Hogan, needing to do something for himself, decides to accept his offer of dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see endnotes for detailed summary outlining how the tags may come into play in this chapter. Summaries may contain spoilers and may mention or describe the sensitive material listed in the work's tags. Some details in this story may be non-compliant with canon. Thank you for reading!

Klink may not have been the wisest man that had ever lived but he was certainly one of the most optimistic despite all that stacked up against him. The world was a big grimace which surrounded him yet he smiled back as often as he could. Looking at himself in the mirror and seeing his reflection staring back was the only time he couldn't find himself smiling anymore—except for now. Hogan’s words echoed in his mind as he temporarily shed the stiff jacket and abandoned that striking silhouette he apparently cut. Klink set it aside with a scowl and unbuttoned the sleeves to his shirt to roll them up. His five minutes of self-loathing was over as he loosed his tie and draped it over the back of his jacket on a chair.   
  
Right, Klink nearly saluted at seeing himself off.   
  
“Tsch,” he scoffed to himself before shaking his head, “What are you doing?” He huffed before grabbing an apron and gathering the final details together for a rare feast. Much to Hogan's probable dismay, Klink was looking forward to the food almost as much as he was looking forward to the company.   
  
_What if he doesn't come?_  Doubt asked.   
_I will make him._  Klink answered with confidence.   
  
All these poor fools in the camp, the least he could do was make it less miserable for himself as well as others. Hogan's trust would not come easy, but it would also not come without some force. He was more stubborn now than he had ever been but at least he had the audacity to spare Klink some dignity in his dinner request. It could have gone much worse than even the first time—Klink could still feel the ice on the memory and hoped he could thaw off some of the damage he had done the first time.  
  
He had never apologized for it now that he thought about it.   
  
Schultz arrived with a salute. “Jawohl, Herr Kommandant. Oh! Is it dinner time?” Immediately the guard set his rifle down only to be barked at by Klink.

“It is not for you. Go release Carter from confinement.”

Schultz looked confused. “You are making... Dinner? For Carter?”  
  
“No you fool! Make sure you escort him to Barracks 2.”  
  
Schultz looked skeptical as ever, one brow cocked in suspicion as his lip twitched with curiosity. Despite being barked at by Klink once already, it did not deter him from asking again.   
  
“Herr Kommandant?”  
  
“What.”  
  
“Why?”  
  
“Why?! Why _what_?” Klink pounded his fist on the counter and scared Schultz. He was quite light on his feet for how big he was. “Never mind why! You shouldn’t question my orders anyway! While you are at it, remind Colonel Hogan I expect to see him an hour after roll call.” He made it as specific as he could so that Hogan could not find a way to slip out of Klink's grasp this time. There was no escaping it now. Carter being returned without any discussion should be enough, shouldn't it?   
  
“Kommandant...” Schultz called after him, Klink seemed to have wandered off in his own worrisome thoughts and snapped to at the sound of the sergeant's voice.   
  
“Hm?”   
  
“Where am I taking Hogan?”  
  
“Here.”  
  
“For dinner?” Schultz seemed overly concerned about who was going to eat the luxurious spread that was unfolding as Klink continued to prepare and produce a fine meal that already had the sergeant drooling.

“Yes, after roll call. Eight o’ clock.” Klink confirmed as he moved to his music player to put a record on for himself more than anything. His mood was off and Schultz saw it, though in the sergeant’s eyes it was not necessarily a bad thing.   
  
“Well? Go! There isn't much time until roll call. Twenty minutes at most!” The kommandant barked as if he was still in his office, stiff collared and exhausted by daily tasks and demands. Schultz clicked into a reflexive salute. It disgusted Klink to see him go so quickly—it disgusted him because they were all doing it for the wrong reasons. Even now as Schultz scuttled across the dark grounds towards the Cooler he was afraid, no one trusted anybody anymore. Perhaps bringing Carter back would be enough leverage to ease Hogan's hostility. If there was anything Klink hated more than himself it was hostile situations. 

Schultz checked his watch and shook his head. Eight, the kommandant had said? It was only six-forty, certainly Klink meant for Hogan to come at seven? With Carter silently in tow, he pounded on the door to Barracks 2.  _Achtung_! he barked before pushing the door in with his hefty weight. He nattered at them all for standing around - suspicious of them - curious as well. He had always found better company with them than with the kommandant. Carter was relinquished into their company again with ease.

“Colonel Hogan, the ‘big shot’ expects you at eight!” Schultz loudly whispered to Hogan, making him cringe even though he was likely ignored over the commotion. “Do not be late! And he says do not try to escape! I am to shoot you if you do.”  
  
“With what gun?” Hogan asked coolly. That was when Schultz realized he had left it behind. The sergeant growled loudly as he spun on his heel to leave at once.

 

By the time Schultz had returned to fetch his rifle back, Klink had already set the table as finely as he could. His nicest dishes were being used to house a small rib roast with a jar of fresh horse radish. Fresh butter and hot bread, greens and roots as well. Wine had been requisitioned and somehow wine had been received (much to his own surprise, maybe Fate wasn't so cruel after all?) and he had the glasses to serve it in. A dessert had been brought in but remained a secret under the silver-plated dome.

The table setting was for two, no room for the sergeant who seemed rather crestfallen now knowing he would be missing out on such a decent meal. Since it had been Hogan's request that the man chaperone, it was in Klink's plans to play on the pity he often felt for others rather than himself. Even Schultz was pathetic enough that Hogan wouldn't be able to stand seeing him there, salivating over the bread rolls, his nose practically on Hogan's knee begging for scraps. Sooner or later he'd be dismissed and finally, Klink could have just a little time alone with Hogan— just some time to be apart from his daily burden as kommandant.   
  
“I need Hogan to feel sorry for you for having to be here. He insisted you chaperone and I need him alone… Secret instructions from Major Hochstetter, I’m afraid. Can you do that, Sergeant?”  
  
“Yes!” He gasped with another salute at mention of the Gestapo, and he parked his rifle under his arm with intention to not forget it this time. 

 

Although the inhabitants of Barracks 2 had calmed down significantly, Hogan chose to park himself in his bunk with his face buried in a book. The gesture was entirely for show should someone enter his quarters—he could not make himself focus long enough to make sense of a single sentence. His mind raced more than usual. Without a scheme or plan to brew up, worry dominated his thoughts. Shame arose that he couldn’t account for, couldn’t blame on someone else.

For some reason he found himself recollecting the days of his basic training and the early years of his military career.  Nobody had expected him to succeed in the Army. Not his mother, not the juvenile delinquents he’d considered his friends at the time, not even the poor enlistment sergeant who’d worked so hard helping him forego his jail time by entering the service. Then in basic training he’d met another young man named Farelli, a sweet Catholic boy from Jersey who’d latched onto Hogan and supported him from day one. Hogan knew he’d have dropped out of boot camp without Farelli’s friendship (considering where he was now, part of him wondered if it would have been such a tragedy to forget about the military). Even in his memories he refused to acknowledge the young man’s first name; he could not forget the intimacy of the single kiss they’d shared before they were transferred far away from each other.

Hogan gave up and slammed the book shut. Why was he worrying about such a distant, meaningless memory at a time like this? Klink was in no way like Farelli, and Hogan himself was a far cry from the hapless young man he’d once been. Why should he feel the same nervous anticipation now that he’d felt the first time Farelli had touched the back of his hand?

A commotion in the barracks tore Hogan from his unhealthy thoughts. He peered out of his quarters fearing another altercation breaking out between the men. Instead he was surprised to see Schultz escorting Carter from the Cooler.

“We were wrong to doubt you, gov,” Newkirk said sincerely as the men crowded a wide-eyed, nervous Carter. “You came through for us again. You always do.”

 

The praise hit a sour chord, especially as Schultz sloppily tried to relay Klink’s invitation. Regardless of what his men thought now, Hogan did not feel especially heroic. He’d refused to bargain for Carter and yet Klink had released him anyway. The obligation Hogan now faced was a thousand times as daunting as the Carter dilemma. Nothing made him feel like more of a crumb than to be bested by Klink of all people. It didn’t help that the wager was Hogan’s self-assurance and peace of mind.

Spending an evening with Klink was not the worst thing he could imagine, and he silently hated himself for admitting it. He could forgive himself for his youthful transgressions, but now he was an officer and he held command of a very precarious operation that meant a difference to the Allied war effort. Besides being completely perverted on so many levels, sinking to being the kommandant’s plaything could blow the entire secret operation in addition to his career.

Or it could save it, he tried to tell the apprehensive reflection in the mirror inside his locker. At the very least it was more leverage in favor of his men. If they were pleased with Carter’s speedy release, he could only imagine how much they’d like him after he bent Klink even further to his will. All he had to do was put aside the lifetime he’d spent telling himself that what had happened with Farelli was a mistake and that he was a normal, healthy, God-fearing American soldier. It shouldn’t be too hard. As he shaved he let himself at last ponder what the kommandant’s lips were like. He instinctively filed the thoughts away, but it was too late and guilt poured over him. He fished the flask out from under his mattress pad and tried to soothe his nerves.

He was still steady but his face was hot by the time he buttoned his dress uniform and stepped into the barracks. His watch showed 8:15 and he knew Schultz was sure to bust in at any moment.

“And where are you going looking so pretty?” LeBeau teased, stirring a strong-smelling sauce in a dish balanced on top of the woodstove. “I’m making a special dinner with the last of my garlic.”

He should have had a story lined up for them but knew that they’d trust he had his own reasons for doing anything. Hogan cringed trying to find a quick excuse, but Schultz entered a moment later, huffing and puffing and causing a commotion that suggested he’d been thoroughly yelled at for letting Hogan be late.

 

It was nearly 8:30 by the time they made it to the Kommandantur. Hogan smelled the dinner before he saw it, and when he did, he could’ve forgotten that he was in a German POW camp.

“So much for cabbage soup…” he said to Klink, unsure how to respond to such a pleasant surprise. All of the faked requisitions his men had slipped into Klink’s paperwork could not account for the luxurious items laid out on Klink’s table. It seemed Klink had a few tricks up his sleeve as well, and Hogan couldn’t help but be intrigued to meet this side of him.

“So much indeed. I figured you could stand a break from, well, everything.” The energy on Klink was different somehow, much more transparent, and between the two of them he tried to remain as unguarded as he could for Hogan's sake. His heart was pounding, his body tingling with a boyish thrill of having the colonel over in such an intimate setting. He wanted to impress Hogan and to genuinely do something nice for the man even if he was more often than not a rotten prisoner to maintain. 

“Colonel, hasn’t anyone told you there’s a war on?” Hogan asked, playing it cool although he was entirely ready to tear into the gorgeous roast with his bare hands.  
  
Klink wore his best and was adorned with every badge, bar, and ribbon he had ever been awarded in the line of his (this) cretinous duty. A duty of which obligated Klink and which he doubted would impress Hogan. Either way, he had asked the man to wear his best as well. It was only fair to follow through with it himself. In truth they were equals in their own ways. Klink had enough respect for Hogan to treat him like the man he was and not a prisoner.   
  
“Hogan,” his voice was surprisingly soft when he wasn't barking or braying orders at him, “—thank you for coming. All manners put aside, it is good to have genuine company for once.” Klink smiled for him but no warmth touched his distant blue eyes. Klink knew how underhanded Hogan oftentimes was and he knew he was never up to any good. He didn't know the depth of how manipulative the man could be if only because he was blinded by his kindness to a fault. Klink knew it, Hogan knew it, and yet there had never come a time between them where it crossed a threshold they couldn't come back from.   
  
Except for the first time Klink ever met Hogan, of course.   
  
“I'm going to be very frank with what I expect out of you tonight and it is important that you oblige me.” His face looked awfully pained for an instant, expecting the awful blow of Hogan's fury. Even if he was mad Klink still admired the man for even coming and trying, and truly, he was thankful that Hogan had landed in Stalag 13 under his care. Why? Perhaps he was living vicariously through Hogan's efforts to stumble plans wherever he could. It made him livid, of course, but at the same time it thrilled him, it livened the misery that could be felt all throughout the camp.   
  
“I don't want to think about the war tonight.” He gave a troubled sigh. Klink wore worry like a second skin. “I don't want to discuss deals with you tonight, which is why I sent Carter back to your barracks. I don't want to talk about work, can you do that?” These were not the typical words of Klink. The kommandant's boots, though still on his feet, were figuratively hanging up where the rest of his metaphors were. A coat, a belt, a helmet and hat, the war. Ah yes, the war. “That said, dinner is served Hogan, please have a seat and if you'd pour the wine that would be wonderful.” Not forgetting a syllable of what the colonel had fired off at him earlier this afternoon, Klink offered him as much control as he could to put him at ease. 

“And Hogan, please, that does mean I'd like you to call me Wilhelm.” He said as he tuned the radio to music then sat down at the table with a gentler smile.

 

Hogan sat slowly at the table, studying everything around him. Although Schultz hovered over the table and was fussing with the arrangements, Hogan noted only two place settings. Knowing Klink it was a strategic move— Schultz was not intended to participate in the meal in the hopes that Hogan would take pity on him and move to dismiss him early. He would, but he'd make Klink sweat it out a little longer. In the meantime, he tried to find something to criticize about everything in front of him. Watching him serve he tried to tell himself that Klink didn't know how to carve a roast, that the meat looked tough and gray. Instead his stomach betrayed him and offered a growl like it was ready for something other than gin.   
  
With no fault to find in the meal, Hogan instead looked to his host. It was clear that Klink was taking it all very seriously. The humble table looked like it had been arranged for a visit from a member of Hitler's staff. There were napkin holders and crystal candlesticks that Klink had never once broken out for General Burkhalter's fancy dinner parties. Klink was also wearing a heady cologne that he didn't put on for Burkhalter, either. He'd even brought out his second Iron Cross, which he wore on its ribbon at his throat. Hogan could've smirked at the pompous aesthetic until he realized that his own honors didn't hold weight against two Iron Crosses.

There were a lot of things like that about Klink that usually went unnoticed. Whatever could be said for his personality, Hogan knew that his men ate better and lived more comfortably than in any other prison camp. Hogan also knew that the candlesticks and cologne didn't come out for Burkhalter because he didn't  _matter_. Klink kissed up to his boss because his life depended on it; he'd done all of this for a single prisoner from only the kindness of his heart.   
  
“The greens are a little bitter,” Hogan coughed tasting the lush meal. Perhaps it was him that was bitter? He couldn't even accept a nice gesture without lashing out at his favorite victim. Klink didn't act especially disturbed by the comment, but Hogan knew he'd heard it. Blue eyes stared pointedly at their own plate like a child scolded for spilling his milk. Hogan could've screamed in anger at his own nagging guilt. The only thing more cloying than Klink's aristocratic decadence was his own stupid sentimentality. Tonight, despite himself, for some sick reason he didn't want Klink to feel bad.   
  
“Everything else is wonderful though.” The compliment slipped by quickly and he grabbed for the wine bottle, distracting himself with the cork so he wouldn't have to watch the pleased smile return to Klink's face. He could accept that Klink gave a decent dinner party when his heart was in it, but he wasn't ready to acknowledge the reason for it until he had more alcohol in him. “May I?”

When Hogan coughed around his criticism Klink quietly hoped he was choking on it as well. Despite that, he had prepared for Hogan's worst. What could he honestly expect out of wining and dining one of his own prisoners? Complete submission? No, not that, never that— and perhaps that was why he was intrigued by Hogan so much. The colonel strung him along like a fish and Klink didn't care. The flirting was enough to carry him through some of his darkest days, days which no one knew of or cared to know of. Klink considered himself despicable and if Hogan hated this whole gesture of kindness then it would be nothing new to him. Disappointing, of course, but Klink was too far into his own darkness to react any other way to it than to be indifferent.   
  
“Yes, it is quite wonderful,” Klink added plainly, eventually disregarding the comment and the side of wariness that came with it. “I asked for this quite some time ago and was surprised to find the resources for it available.” His words were hollow although the smile he wore was not. Schultz huffed quietly to himself in the corner and glared at Hogan for getting the opportunity to have a decent roast dinner rather than him. Klink wondered how long it would be for Hogan to dismiss the sergeant, if ever. If he didn't then this dinner would be about nothing but vengeance— a thing which already exhausted Klink just thinking about it. He served the roast quietly and gave Hogan a generous portion of it before serving himself. Soon the wine was opened and Klink sighed a sigh of relief. At least that would melt some of his nerves... hopefully.   
  
“Please.” The kommandant said with a smile as he lifted his glass for Hogan to fill. He was eager to pull it to his lips and drink it down. He wasn't sure if he was thirsty or nervous or both, eyes trained on the handsome uniform Hogan had dressed himself in. He admired it quietly from across the table and tried his best not to look so wolfish about it; when Hogan's eyes came up to meet his they were readily darting somewhere else. “Your men won't give you too much trouble about this, I hope.” And he was sincere enough about it now that business was off of the table. “It has been a long time since I've had a meal like this myself.” He didn't know where to start. He didn't even know if he should. The wine was being poured but he wasn't sure if it would be enough to set a mood to where they would both be comfortable to simply talk. 

“My men…” Hogan sighed, grateful at least for something to blame his nerves on. He knew that everyone in Barracks 2 would laugh if he were here to see the display. It was his own fault for spending so much time saying awful things about the kommandant behind his back. How many jokes and rude rumors had he been the first to spread around camp? He couldn’t believe he’d had the foresight to not tell anyone about Klink being a homosexual, or whatever he was—aside from the same jokes made about all the Germans, it was not discussed among the men.   
  
Or was it? The past two days had demonstrated that he didn’t know his men as well as he’d thought. For all he knew the whole lot was sitting around laughing about him going to see the kommandant with a fresh shave and a clean uniform. Surely they suspected nothing, Hogan assured himself, or they trusted that he had some kind of plan. It only bothered him because he couldn’t tell where he stood with them now after all the things that had happened. Could he count on them to have faith in him as a leader if they found out that he was subjecting himself to this? Maybe, unless they knew that he was doing it all for himself and not to earn them more goodies. 

  
  
“Colonel, my men are so fickle they’d be sore finding out that I’m eating like this tonight.” Hogan said. “They’d be angry at me all day if they knew I’d had a date and they hadn’t, at least until they found out who it was with. Now, that’s not a personal jab, Kommandant, it’s just that most of them prefer blondes.” He hoped Klink would be pleased to hear him call this a date. Beside them Schultz didn’t say a word. Perhaps the vernacular meant less to him with a narrower grasp of English. Still, Hogan realized he was being careless. But Klink at least seemed to be warming up so he tried to continue. “I’m not trying to bad-mouth my men, especially to the enemy. They have good morale and most of them’ve been through worse things than I have.”   
  
Klink didn’t want to talk about the war, Hogan reminded himself. If he wanted the evening to end early, Hogan could make a perfect ass of himself and bring up some of the complaints he’d heard about other prison camps. Instead, he tried an approach he thought Klink might enjoy.

“They’re damn fine soldiers. They should be, in civilian life they’re all petty criminals. This war’s the best thing that’s ever happened to them.” This produced a short laugh from Klink that made Hogan feel better than he could admit—at least it eased his nerves. “It’s true! Carter starts fires and Newkirk picks pockets. LeBeau’s never held a job in his life. He finds a pretty girl who believes him when he says he’s a chef or an artist and lets her support him until she meets his other girlfriend and kicks him out.” Hogan selfishly punctuated his rude gossip about his own men by helping himself to another slice of the perfectly roasted beef. “Kinch is a good enough guy, but he’s gonna go crazy in civilian life when he figures out that he’s a supremely talented genius who’s been through a war, but when they look at him the whole world just sees another disposable colored boy.”   
  
Klink listened attentively. He looked so painfully European with his medals and stiff uniform—he even held his silverware differently. Well-mannered hands made delicate, perfect cuts of food like it’d been beaten into him at an early age. But he paid attention and seemed thoughtful. He was decent company when he wasn’t desperately filling silences and agreeing with his superiors.   
  
It turned out Klink was better enjoyed in private. Hogan pondered this thought as Schultz began his descent and first circle around the table. The guard heaved a world-weary sigh and stared at the roast almost resentfully, yet almost like he could taste the food just by looking at it hard enough.   
  
“Kommandant, why don’t we cut back a little on our security arrangements?” Hogan finally gave in and nodded to Schultz, who seemed to be fighting the urge to lick his lips. He finished his glass of wine and got started on another while Klink dismissed the guard.

This was the crucial moment when he decided whether he was ready to go forward with Klink, with this  _arrangement_  whatever it may prove to be. This was the moment when duty and dignity must be put aside to honor his own desires and interests. He was curious. Throughout his life there was an itch that had not been satisfied by his tryst as a young man in basic training. The second glass of wine was almost gone.

“Well, you’ll have to tell me about how you got your Iron Cross.” Hogan said. He wasn’t ready yet to call him Wilhelm, but he found it in himself to reach across the table and brush his fingertips along the medal at Klink’s throat. “This one.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter contains rude and racist language. Hogan basically acts like a total OOC jerk at one point. This is the last time this happens in this fic.
> 
> Before meeting Klink for dinner, Hogan ponders a past relationship and starts drinking to combat some anxiety it brings up. Dinner goes well and he finds himself enjoying Klink's company, but his stress re-manifests in the form of bad-mouthing his men to Klink between flirting with him.
> 
> Also, Klink's Iron Crosses in canon aren't the type that worn on a ribbon at the neck. We just thought it was a fun aesthetic!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see endnotes for detailed summary outlining how the tags may come into play in this chapter. Summaries may contain spoilers and may mention or describe the sensitive material listed in the work's tags. Some details in this story may be non-compliant with canon. Thank you for reading!

Klink had already held his breath so many times, there wasn't enough air in the room left for the shuddering heave he took when Hogan reached across the table toward him. Hogan's fingers against his Iron Cross made him light-headed, as if exhaling right now would chase the man away entirely. His back was stiff against the chair, hands rigid and straight like death against his unused cutlery.

Time stopped long enough for the question to come into his mind slowly, process, then expand deep inside his consciousness like a match flame turned to wildfire. The memories came alive as the gravelly silence continued between them. Hogan's hand slowly pulled back, his expression understanding but curious, almost as if he understood it all without even knowing. If he spoke, Klink couldn't hear him over the roar of wind, gunfire, the sound of screaming engines shooting down like stars as the enemy mowed them down like hunters.   
  
At the end of the table Henri was bent unnaturally over a half-spent mag still hanging from his gun, blood painting the back end of the airplane red. Klink was genuinely horrified for a short second before it got too far out of hand. His nails were digging into the palms of his hands from clenching them as hard as if the gears of the plane were in his hands.   
  
He eased out of it, his mind reluctant at first, but with a calm exhale and a casual head shake he came around quickly, only slightly ashamed.   
  
“Surely...” His voice was tight, he pulled his napkin up to his mouth to clear his throat in deflection. Klink was uncomfortable but not unwilling with Hogan. What would happen if Hogan knew? Would he continue to be wicked about him as he did with so many other things? Would he continue to hold such guarded secrets against the man? Hogan seemed to be the only one patient enough for him right now— he'd take his cruelty if it meant he could have the company.   
  
“Surely, you don't want to hear about something like that.” What a weak thing to say. How stupid of him. Hogan stayed steadier yet, and Klink grimaced and recalled what he could, the gunfire distracting as it punched bullet holes through the memory as if it were an enemy of his. In a way, it was.   
  
“1917, we were over Luxembourg. It was a small team, it was supposed to be very stealth. We anticipated our targets to be grounded,” he reached for the wine, grabbed it with a white hand and brought the shaking glass to his lips, “—they were not.  
  
“They were waiting for us, we stood no chance. Twelve against eight - it was actually quite brief, but bloody. We thought we managed to scrape out of it with my plane and one other," Klink looked down and shook his head. “We were pulling out when another fighter ambushed us from behind, he nearly shot Sommer out of the sky… but I got to their shooter first with Henri's gun. I had to reach over his body to fire it. We were the only two to survive the scrimmage. I still wonder what the whole point of it was for anyway.” He had lost nearly everything that day.   
  
And then the anger came, the glass trembling in his hand if only because the sudden sharpness in his voice wasn't enough to justify it. “I was a careless young man in those days and was involved with my gunner. We were very serious. I should never have been so foolish.” He seethed. The wine smelled like smoke and jet fuel, not the sweet grapes that had been infused into an accoutrement to their feast. The dinner on his plate had gone half eaten, his focus entirely diverted from it.

A long silence settled over the room and was thick between them like fog. Klink didn't seem to expect a response yet Hogan felt compelled to speak, desperate to maintain complete control over the situation.   
  
“I understand our side referred to you as the Iron Eagle,” he said eagerly, truthfully. Then, before he was even aware of it to stop himself, he began to lie. “I'd heard the name Klink long before I wound up in Stalag 13. Nearly every American pilot has.” Why did he do that? No wonder his men didn't trust him with their secrets. Klink seemed unimpressed and the phony flattery felt very inappropriate. Maybe the memory left Klink so mentally present that for a moment he could see through all of Hogan's charades— maybe that was why he was so willing to be a fool the rest of the time.   
  
“Thank you for telling me,” Hogan said slowly, the way he decided he would if one of his men had shared a similar story. If Klink had the decency to treat him with respect when they weren't acting as enemies, why couldn't he do the same? “It is an incredible story. I’m sure you were an excellent pilot,” he tried a little more sincerely this time. Klink obliged him with a polite smile but Hogan knew he still had a lot more to make up for.   
  
It was easier now without Schultz present, at least, and another round of wine helped too. Hogan slipped a hand across the table and laid it over Klink's causing him to nearly drop his glass. Hogan didn't smirk this time— his nerves were just as tight even if he didn't let it show as badly. Some of the anxiety was more like excitement; he secretly wished Klink felt the same. Even if neither of them could quite hit the mark, it was oddly refreshing to sit and be open with each other and leave the negotiations and arguments aside. Klink's biggest issue was that he was too nice to make a good Nazi and it made him seem soft. Softness, now, Hogan could appreciate.

 

He was going to need Klink to be very patient with him if anything was going to work out here. But Klink had gone first and laid himself open for Hogan, with amazing composure, no less. He trusted Hogan implicitly. It was Hogan's turn to demonstrate some vulnerability now.   
  
“Colonel...” Still too sober to call him Wilhelm, Hogan sadly admitted to himself, studying the empty wine bottle, “I've been meaning to ask you something else. About your, ah,  _inclination_?” He couldn't possibly embarrass himself in front of Klink, could he? The mention of Klink’s involvement with his gunner had brought up another question. Hogan had been dreadfully curious for so long now, but it felt impolite to just ask. He'd been in and out of Klink's desk enough times to see the girlie mags squirrelled away under a copy of Mein Kampf (he was certain his men had seen them too, which likely helped for the lack of rumors regarding the kommandant's sexuality). Conversely, he'd also never been propositioned so directly by a man as that first night he'd been in Stalag 13. Klink seemed perfectly interested in women, yet was currently batting his eyelashes like a broad himself.   
  
“Does it go both ways for you?” It seemed rather forward but then again he hadn't been the one to pose the question the first time they'd met. It was easier to keep speaking about it now that he'd broken the ice, and he continued. “For you as well, I should say. Not that I've ever chased anything but skirts.” Well, now it was out. If Klink couldn't see the trust in the gesture, Hogan was ready to give up. 

If the questions Hogan had asked him hadn't been so jarring from the mood Klink's despair put him in, he would still be lost in the storm clouds and vapor trails of an old war and a memory that was certainly exhausted in itself. Hogan's hand felt like fire over his and he wasn't sure if it was all the wine or the sheer thrill of the colonel crossing a line that he himself had drawn between them.

It was true, the kommandant had started off quite open about his intentions with Hogan He had found him attractive that same day the colonel had been delivered to him in cuffs. Maybe it had been the mouth on him or the fire in his eyes, maybe even the bravery and courage he possessed for all of his men. Or, honestly, perhaps it had been the cuffs all along. For even now, Hogan was still here against his will despite everything. At the end of the day, he would still be Klink's prisoner. And Klink, his gate to freedom.   
  
In a way, Klink would always be Hogan's prisoner as well.   
  
He wasn't sure where to begin answering him. He had neither confirmed nor denied Hogan's claims over the years they had spent in the same camp. If anything he used it as his only defense to confuse Hogan when he could. While Hogan sought to manipulate him with his secrets, Klink would maintain his control over Hogan by never acting on his first mistake again. When it happened the first time, Klink had had the advantage of catching Hogan by surprise— after learning his quarry's tricky but true ways, he never wanted to give him an inch into his personal affairs again.   
  
Until now, of course.   
  
Hogan's hand soothed something inside of him,  _calmed_  him, and while he took a moment to really think about his answer to the colonel he tested how ready Hogan was to hear his truth— if he could handle it. The most direct way was simple, Klink turned his hand over beneath Hogan's and let their palms touch. He'd love to share everything with the man if he could trust him. How to get Hogan to trust him was the trickiest part, he'd have to confirm every suspicion and rumor Hogan might have heard.   
  
“Yes, Hogan.” He said ambiguously, at first. “I like women, but it almost strictly goes one way for me, I'm afraid. The deflections have always been a clever ruse.” His thumb slowly circled Hogan's palm out of fondness. It felt so good to hold him even if it was something as simple as his hand. He was trusting the man greatly now, enough to leave out how badly this could go for him if Hogan opened his mouth right now and shouted for a guard— or worse, sold these secrets to the right agent. None of this went unchecked in Klink's mind as he pondered over his answers, but he was doomed no matter what happened and his days were—as he felt—quite numbered. If he could die with fewer secrets in his heart then maybe there would still be hope for him in the afterlife.   
  
“Hogan, I never apologized to you for how I acted that day.” And he was sure that the colonel knew exactly which day he spoke of, for there had never been another like it. “I'm truly sorry. I was wrong to ask something like that from you. The truth is, as you may have guessed, I was quite impressed by you and wanted to intimidate you.”  
  
A pause drifted heavy between them as Klink bothered himself with how much he was saying, he couldn't stop the dribble from coming out of him now. Like Hogan, the words came easier now that the truth was out.   
  
“I am grateful that you are here tonight, with me.” He admitted then, squeezing Hogan's hand before releasing it to stand up and smooth his uniform down over his sides. The kommandant crossed the room to find music to fill the tense silences they kept falling into, the subjects of the evening quite touchy as they established and took down certain boundaries. Klink felt quite vulnerable and kept the music moderately low. He returned to the table with brandy but didn't sit down, waiting for Hogan’s reaction.  
  
“What about you Hogan? Tell me why you are here tonight. Tell me why you stay.” It was a gentle inquiry, hardly a demand, boyish and curious in tone as he couldn't help the natural pout on his features. Klink hoped it wasn't for business that Hogan stayed and he prayed Hogan wouldn't blame him for having no choice  _but_  to come. Klink needed him more than he could admit. 

“Why am I here?” Hogan repeated dumbly. He wanted to throw back a simple one-sentence reply, but soon realized that he had not yet even answered the question for himself. Was the answer something he'd drowned when he emptied his flask in his quarters? He could hardly remember changing into his dress uniform. His thoughts had been deafened by bits of songs and imaginary conversations he used to occupy his aching mind.   
  
That mind ached now to consider everything Klink had told him. He'd earned his Iron Cross using the gun of his dead boyfriend?  _Christ_ , Hogan groaned inwardly. Was there nobody around him without a fucking sob story? The frustration about it was weak and he knew it was just another layer he used to cover his true feelings. The heart that held deep sadness for Klink and his tragedy was the same one that forgave Carter for being anxious and afraid, that regretted not returning Farelli's letters, the one that kept him up at night wondering how many men whose deaths he'd been responsible for in one way or another.   
  
“Maybe it's because I _want_ this,” Hogan blurted. The answer surprised him as well as Klink and there was a long and uncomfortable pause as he tried to recoup and explain what he meant. “I want a break from making every decision. I’d like to be around someone who just wants to spend time with me.” He looked over the spent dinner table and wondered how much the spread had cost. Thoughts crossed his mind of Klink pouring champagne and bearing gifts of jewelry and driving around in a shiny black staff car with Hogan hanging off his arm. He saw himself doted on. Knowing that it came with no price tag beyond his companionship, he smiled. “I need to be with someone who wants to treat me well because he  _likes_  me. Not because he thinks I can get him a pound of coffee!”   
  
“You are certainly worth more than a pound of coffee, Colonel Hogan.”   
  
Hogan glanced at the man who still stood beside the table anticipating his answer. Fantasies of being spoiled seemed shallow compared to the heavy way Klink looked at him. Klink would spoil him and more. Hogan wanted to find out what 'more' was.   
  
“I'm here tonight because you're an attractive man and you invited me to dinner. Simple enough? I stay because the company is nice and because you're more handsome when you're happy.” Hogan said, smiling again. “Are you going to open that bottle or shall I?”

A wry grin suffused from Klink, he was a sinking ship as the alcohol overcame him with a wave of rand joy.

“Hogan, you truly flatter me. I like you too, very much.” The kommandant said with great honesty. Looking at Hogan smiling back at him thrilled Klink madly and he could hardly contain himself in this wine-infused bliss. So quick Hogan was to uplift him! That, or perhaps Klink was that weak against him (for him?). The kommandant allowed himself to admire Hogan more openly, his eyes drifting down from his face to his shoulders and chest, lower yet to drink in all of him and that uniform he wore so well.   
  
Everything about Hogan made him vibrate with energy. It didn't help to know that this could all be  _foolish_  of him to leave himself wide open and so vulnerable. Perhaps Hogan had a wire on him or a spy rigged outside a window looking in with a camera? Klink dismissed all of his insecurities of yesterday in favor of the moment as it was.

“There are so many things I'd like to do to you. I find you incredibly enticing, particularly when you are giving me such a hard time at my desk.”  
  
It took Klink every strain of self-control to not think about what kind of body was beneath all the neat pleats and folds of Hogan's suit— to wonder about how soft he might be or how his lips might taste, amongst other things—but he couldn't allow himself to get so carried away. Hogan was just now opening up to him and Klink was too hungry, he swallowed hard and got straight to the liquor that the colonel asked about.   
  
“Not to mention  _beautiful_.” He used a less rigid word because that was how it translated in his mind. At least the language barrier saved him from sounding so painfully cliché. “I am not sorry for saying that.” His blue eyes twinkled in the dim light of the living room as he poured them both a handsome amount of brandy in a couple of glasses with a warmed, effortless smile. “Hogan, come sit with me in here on the divan won't you? It's more comfortable and warm. Come, I stoked the fire in the stove.” A fair amount of confidence seemed to inflate the once-depressed kommandant as he set the colonel's glass down and brought his own up to nip at. His lips played at the rim of the glass as he brooded over the drink and waited to see if Hogan would sit with him. 

“You're an officer and a gentleman, Kommandant.” Hogan smiled brilliantly as Klink offered him a glass of brandy. He sat where Klink gestured and sipped at the fine liquor— another expensive treat sweetened by the increasingly more lurid grin on Klink's face.  
  
“Hogan, surely it must be a ruse if you find  _me_  attractive.” Klink jested light-heartedly. But he was quick to look back at him in all seriousness that sudden doubt brought on. “I'm only kidding, of course! I believe you, Hogan.”  
  
The radio gargled with static as the nightly show ended and someone came on to announce the new hour's entertainment. Klink spluttered rude things under his breath as he got up quickly to switch the radio. “Well! Never mind the radio. This evening is too lovely to be spoiled by that stuff!” He spat vehemently at the speaker before glancing back at Hogan apologetically.

Klink was a different man when he was carrying himself with confidence. He was handsome enough in his own way but when he acted less like a man who hated himself, he gave off a certain sensuality that Hogan knew was more than just the wine talking. Klink was a decent person. How sad that he had to self-sabotage every good opportunity that came his way by talking too much and making a fool of himself.   
  
In that moment Hogan was hardly paying attention to the radio, but he heard the music on the radio gave way to some announcement Hogan couldn't quite understand. Klink was already halfway across the room when it happened, grumbling to himself in German and switching the radio off.   
  
“What?” Hogan asked frankly when Klink turned back to him, scowling.   
  
“They're playing a  _patriotic_  show. At this hour!” Klink shook a clenched fist. “I'd rather sit in silence than listen to that, that _noise_!”  
  
The mood had shifted considerably in a matter of moments. Klink's lusty smile was quickly replaced by a frustrated pout. He threw himself dejectedly into the space beside Hogan and polished his monocle while he sulked silently. This would not do. Hogan realized at once that he couldn't sustain this on his own. He needed Klink's support. There was no point to any of this without it— he knew he couldn't keep going if Klink didn't contribute to the atmosphere.   
  
“Well, I'd rather just go back to my barracks than sit here and mope.” Klink looked up at him with a disappointed but knowing expression. Nobody wore self-pity as nicely as Klink. Luckily it was as handsome on him as his crisp uniform. Big pouty eyes framed by dark, full lashes were as pretty as they were sad. Hogan sighed, frustration mounting again. It always fell back on him to keep everyone happy so they could just move forward! Then again, he couldn't blame Klink for feeling bad having just been reminded that they were on opposing sides, and that he was on the wrong one.   
  
“Look...” Hogan tried once Klink had returned to staring into his glass of brandy. “Do you still have all those records your men confiscated from us?” The ones that didn't get burned up in the rec hall fire, he was tempted to add but decided not to contribute to the bitter mood. Klink seemed to perk up a little. “Why don't we just put one of those on? Maybe some Duke Ellington or Count Basie. Something that the Fuhrer would simply hate.”  
  
Klink didn't acknowledge the last comment. Hogan was sure it had been in poor taste, but despite that Klink set aside his glass to disappear into another room. Hogan quickly gulped down the rest of his brandy and poured another, shuddering at the fire in his belly. Klink returned a moment later with a tabletop record player and a stack of 78s. He looked at them uncertainly. He offered Hogan a strange look, almost like he was confused, but then he surprised Hogan with his next words.   
  
“There is no Duke Ellington or Count Basie here. Perhaps you'd better help me decide who among these would most offend the Fuhrer.”  
  
Hogan laughed out loud and moved to stand beside Klink, whose smile was beginning to return to his face. They flipped through the records together and Hogan let his shoulder press against Klink's. Klink pressed back. They agreed on a Tommy Dorsey album and put it on. Hogan was halfway through his next drink by the time the pin dropped.   
  
“I suppose I ought to show you some decadent American dances to go along with this,” Hogan said, eagerly, energized and invigorated from having rescued the mood yet again. He felt like he could carry the whole evening on his shoulders, especially when he offered Klink his hand and Klink took it. “Do you mind if I lead?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of war; Hogan is a littler nicer in this chapter but still acts a little edgy.
> 
> Klink experiences some flashbacks while telling Hogan a painful war story. Hogan tries to relax and mellow out a little but feels like he's acting inappropriately because he's trying to protect himself. They discuss sexuality and some boundaries. Klink is upset when the radio plays Nazi music so they put on an American record and decide to dance. Hogan starts drinking to excess.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please see end notes for detailed summary outlining how the tags may come into play in this chapter. Summaries may contain spoilers and may mention or describe the sensitive material listed in the work's tags. Thank you for reading!

“No one likes _them_ , Hogan.” Klink shuddered at Hogan’s jokes about the High Command but tried not to let it ruin the entire evening. The mood was quick to dissipate but just as quick to return all thanks to Hogan and his clever ability to defuse a bad situation. “I'm lucky to be a lowly warden. The ones who lick their boots are the most afraid. I don't think I could handle much more. I can only imagine what Burkhalter has to do for them. I feel sorry for him, for all of them.”  _Most of all myself,_  he didn't say because he was sure Hogan already knew.

The music that soon filled the room was exactly what Klink had been hoping for. His smile returned as he clapped his hands together and laughed. “This is wonderful Hogan, I might have to start substituting my evening agenda in favor of this!” Klink knocked back the rest of his brandy and poured them each another glass. By now he was swimming in boozy dreamlike euphoria.   
  
"Are you really here with me Hogan?" He said, allowing himself to be young and stupid and so utterly smitten by the man in front of him as well as the whole evening. One more nip off the liquor before putting it down in favor of Hogan's hand. It felt strong in his own. His attraction for the colonel swelled until he couldn't contain it and he leaned into him with his body. “Show me everything you know, I want to learn.” And he honestly did.   
  
They were off with something bright and jovial. Klink had a hard time breaking out of the formal dance lessons he had grown up with but with some patience and extra guidance, Hogan was able to loosen him up. His gentle coachings had Klink swinging with him in no time although the dance was far more elementary than it could have been. He was no woman dancing on the other end of Hogan's line but it did not stop him from grinning wildly every time their bodies came together.

 

Several songs seemed to pass with them both laughing and dancing. The war and all of its efforts to separate one man from the other became farther and farther away as the minutes flew by. Enough time passed that Schultz had long since given up standing at attention just outside the front door and found company with the rest of the boys in Barracks 2. If he couldn't have roast then he'd eat cookies. 

Klink slowed when the music did, his heart still pounding hard against his chest as he held onto Hogan's hand and dared to slide his arm around the small of the colonel's back to pull him closer. When their hips met, Klink couldn't help the velvety rumble that escaped his lips. The feeling of Hogan being so near was electrifying. When Hogan didn't resist him Klink dared to cozy closer as he brought his arm up to rest his hand between his dance partner's shoulders, their chests touching and their arms tangling together more intimately as the kommandant dared to ease into a more romantic mood. He couldn't help but lean his face in close to Hogan's neck to smell his aftershave and hum with appreciation.   
  
“You are a fine dancer, Colonel.” He complimented. His voice was husky with need, he couldn't hide it even if he wanted to— a line had been crossed and Hogan had been receptive enough to it. God strike Klink down now if he had to pull himself together. He was too giddy to wonder if this was just an elaborate plot to empty out the camp while his head was turned. He wondered what it would be like to slide his hands through that thick brown hair on Hogan's head— he wondered if it was coarse or soft. This close to Hogan's lips he could see how smooth they were and just thinking about them made his mouth dry. Klink reached for his glass and sipped off of the amber liquor, his breath hot with it as he leaned in close to Hogan, eyes steadily gaging his reaction to the distance which grew shorter between them.   
  
“Hogan...” He breathed his name softly, a hand daring to reach up further and stroke the soft curl of hair at the nape of his neck. What a dream, what a  _dream_! 

Hogan shouldn't have been so surprised at this point that Klink turned out to be a better dancer than he expected. He’d anticipated a clumsy oaf who stepped on his toes and upset furniture. Instead Hogan was amazed at how gracefully Klink moved in heavy leather jackboots. He was lightheaded and drunk, and Klink was turning him in dizzying circles. He couldn't tell when Klink had started leading, or when he'd transformed the humble quarters into an elegant ballroom. He realized they were laughing— together. Klink's arms were wrapped around him and it felt  _good_. It had been a long time since he'd been so elated, so free.   
  
“I saw that… Sinatra kid sing at a dancehall in Cincinnati.” He was boisterously slurring to Klink over the music. Klink looked at him like he'd forgotten his English, but it hardly mattered. Hogan scolded himself to be silent. They did not need to speak. There weren't words for this in any language. Klink was close enough for Hogan to feel toned flesh under grey wool. Klink was very fit for his age, and Hogan slipped his hands down his back and held him roughly by his svelte waist. In that moment there was no difference between Germans and Americans, between men and women. Klink was beautiful to him regardless of what he was. Hogan wanted him despite every reason why he shouldn't.   
  
“Colonel...” Hogan's voice came out strained. With the monocle tucked away safely in a pocket, Klink's big eyes sparkled. His smile was so real, so soft and inviting. His lips parted slightly but he waited. It likely had something to do with their history before this night. Klink hadn't forgiven himself for making Hogan so uncomfortable the first time they'd met. He left a considerable distance between them, but he welcomed Hogan to be the one to close it. “Wilhelm.” Hogan said the name and was surprised again when it didn't destroy him to do so. Nothing could touch him now— Klink would be the one to get him though this war.   
  
He swallowed the tightness in his chest and pressed his lips to Klink's. His kiss was gingerly returned. Someone sighed against the other's mouth. Hogan couldn't tell whose breath it was. He put up no struggle to the undertow that swept him away, and he lost himself in Klink's embrace. Moments went by and they were no longer dancing. Klink's lips parted and Hogan hungrily took what was offered, curling his tongue and crushing his arms around Klink's waist like he would with a dame. Not that Hogan cared to pretend Klink was a girl, as a reasonable person should have. He felt the same way he had with Farelli— it didn't seem wrong to be with this man because everything else was so right.   
  
“Wilhelm.” Hogan would try to repeat the name until it no longer tasted awkward in his mouth. He urged the kommandant back toward the divan and returned greedily to his lips. 

 

The rest of the world seemed to fade into darkness around them as Hogan breathed his name against his lips before finally,  _finally_  kissing them. Klink couldn't help the soft moan to escape against Hogan's soft, warm mouth. His heart leapt, his blood was on fire, he leaned into Hogan desperate with the need to be as close to him as possible. When Hogan held him back he could have died a happier man than he had been just hours ago when the colonel agreed to come to dinner.

Klink didn't anticipate Hogan feeling the same way at all but by the way he kissed the kommandant it felt as if he’d been thinking about it almost as long as Klink had. Klink kissed him back quite hungrily, his arms sliding up around his shoulders as he ran his fingers through his hair before making a fist of it in his hand. He pulled at it firmly and reveled in the growl he got out of Hogan.   
  
Every step the colonel took forward his kommandant took backwards— he was not opposed to being driven by him. The edge of the couch pressed at the backs of Klink's knees when Hogan pushed forward yet again causing them to fall back. When they did Klink pulled Hogan down against his body with a gust of pleasure and pain as their bodies crushed together. Klink was uncomfortably aroused by Hogan's wordless admissions— to hear his name, his  _real_  name awoke something inside of him. He felt hope for himself as well as this entire arrangement and the despair melted away from him as he continued to grope for the colonel who leaned against him. He couldn't draw Hogan in close enough.   
  
He pulled at Hogan's uniform, fingers slipping up beneath it only to find another layer of clothing between them. It was his warning to slow down if anything— he'd certainly die if Hogan got up and left now. He'd dream about their first kiss for days to come, weeks even, and he wondered now if this would ever become more than this one encounter.   
  
Somewhere between rushed sighs and soft moans Klink couldn't help but moan his name again between tasting his lips and tongue quite eagerly, a growing arousal evident between them making him so hot under his clothes there was a light sweat across his bare brow. The music tipped over to something neither fast nor slow, just perfect for the mood that was building up between them. Klink didn't want it to end but he wasn't sure how far Hogan wanted to take it. It had been too long since the man had felt another's embrace like this that he could have wept. Thank God that he didn't. 

  
  
That is when the door knocked and a startled Klink sent Hogan flying off of him into the arm of the divan. Klink sat upright wild-eyed and out of breath, a hand reached out to rest against the colonel's chest as he leaned over him to place another hot open-mouthed kiss against his mouth. The knocks grew persistent, Schultz's voice sounding out about the state of the camp. Klink smoothed himself out and stumbled toward the door.   
  
“Schultz, I am not to be bothered!” If there was a problem it would have to wait until morning. The fact that Schultz did not continue to persist meant that all was well. Perhaps he was hungry, and so Klink did something unexpected and grabbed the desert he had forgotten about on the table before thrusting it at the large sergeant. “Unless the barracks are on fire, I don't want to see you again! Is that clear?” Schultz hugged the small metal dish against his chest and saluted him.  Klink shut the door and locked it before leaning against it with a cooling sigh. His mind was racing as was his heart. He dared to peer back across the room towards Hogan who was still wildly strewn over the divan.   
  
“He gets nervous in the dark.” Klink admitted as he unbuttoned the top buttons to his jacket, he could hardly  _breathe_  from how hot Hogan made him feel. He said nothing more as he made his way back, eyes drinking in the sight laid out before him. “Hogan, the things you do to me.” He breathed, a hand reaching down to stroke the side of his face before cupping it. He lifted his chin and leaned down to place another soft, exploratory kiss on his lips.

Hogan couldn’t say how much time had passed between falling to the couch and being jolted out of Klink’s embrace. Before the knock on the door he was drowning in Klink’s hot breath and the smell of his cologne. Twenty-four hours ago he would never have believed this would be happening to him. Between the chaos of their lives, he hadn’t considered how fast they were moving. He should’ve been more hesitant, less eager to just give himself over to the same man who could, and had, thrown him into a solitary confinement cell at a moment’s notice. Even as he shuddered to feel Klink’s hip against his arousal, he knew that in any other situation he would not hesitate to manipulate this man. Indeed, if he wanted to, he could withhold his affections and twist some kind of special allowance out of Klink, even now.   
  
Klink’s hands were moving past his jacket to explore Hogan’s chest and the thought crossed his mind that Klink could easily do the same to him now. If Klink should shy away from him in this moment, he’d break. A threshold was crossed and there was no turning back. It was around then that the knocking began, jarring him from the blissful stupor he’d fallen into. Klink pulled himself together amazingly quickly, smoothing well-practiced hands over his scant hair and tugging his uniform neatly into place.   
  
In a moment Klink was shouting at Schultz at the door. Hogan watched curiously from where he was sprawled languidly on the divan. A few moments passed and he realized he understood the entire exchange even though it was in German, its meaning universal enough to be obvious. His head felt heavy, heavier than before, his cheeks uncomfortably flushed. The couch gave way beneath him and leather straps cut painfully into his shoulders. The room closed in on him and he was so light-headed he could hardly think.

 

The men conversing in front of him had to yell to be heard over the din of humming engines and shrieking metal. His plane lay in ruins and he was hanging upside down inside the crushed cockpit. His stomach lurched as adrenaline coursed violently through his veins. He could not feel his toes—was his spine broken or was it because all his blood had rushed to his head? 

  
  
He glanced to his feet and realized that he was lounging in an awkward position on Klink’s couch and his foot had fallen asleep. The whole thing had lasted only a moment. And there was Klink beaming down at him. His cheeks were flushed but he didn’t seem as unsteady as Hogan felt. He gulped dryly and sat up to meet the hand caressing his face. The touch was so warm, so personal. Hogan pressed his cheek into Klink’s palm and squinted his eyes shut at the invasive memory.

He hadn’t revisited that moment in a long time, but it was oddly difficult now to come back to the evening with Klink. Then Klink’s lips claimed his and it felt so good and safe, he whimpered. His chest was still tight but he decided it was because he was drunker than he’d realized, and he was so achingly hard for Klink he couldn’t see straight. No wonder his head was spinning.   
  
The kisses were deeper now. Hogan gladly obliged. His lips felt like they were buzzing. He tried to steady his mind and focus on loosing Klink’s clothing. His hands sought entry and fluttered over Klink’s chest as soon as they made it past his jacket. Broad ribs and narrow waist heaved at the contact and goaded Hogan on. He realized again that Klink was waiting for him to make the next move—he resolved not to be surprised if the rest of the evening proceeded the same way. He didn’t mind it. He fussed with the big, clumsy buttons on his dress uniform, which seemed stiff and cumbersome after living so long in his flight jacket. Klink shifted from where he was crouched. He clambered over Hogan’s body and straddled a leg in such a way that Hogan could see the outline of an erection that already impressed him. 

“Leave it. Let me.” Klink commanded roughly against Hogan's whimpering lips to stop him from undressing himself. He bit his lower lip and sucked on it hungrily as his own hands took over on the buttons. Klink wanted the pleasure of unwrapping the man himself. Slowly, of course. He didn't want to frighten Hogan out of the whole night, not when they had made it this far. 

  
  
The jacket came away easily and Klink draped it with care over the back of the divan. Hogan gazed up at him almost adoringly and Klink couldn't help but smile a rakish smile at him before he pulled him back down for another wet kiss. Klink could feel teeth grating against his lips but all he could do was moan hotly against Hogan's tongue. The kommandant could not stand it much longer and untucked Hogan's shirt with one eager yank of his hands which moved to unbutton it as quickly as they could. His fingers fumbled for the hem of the undershirt beneath it when Hogan reached out and grabbed him between the legs.   
  
This was the last threshold. This was where Hogan had stopped the last time he’d had a boyfriend. Only unexplored territory lay ahead and he was determined to see it through. He pulled Klink closer and dove into another long kiss. Then he drew his hand forward and cupped Klink through his trousers, trembling with excitement. 

Klink gasped, blinding white light speckling his vision, so much so he had to close his eyes just to think straight. Who knew such a simple touch could illicit such a reaction? Certainly not Klink. He'd seen how hard Hogan was by now and quietly wanted for it—in any other situation he may have reached straight out for it; to squeeze it and to feel how thick Klink got him (perhaps for pride's sake!), maybe to even taste it.   
  
It had been far too long since he’d had intimacy like this, and while he had been with both women and men, he knew his way around the latter far better. Hogan's tenderness was a tell-tale sign that he was quite new to it all. A part of Klink delighted in being a first experience for Hogan. Shamelessly he rubbed himself on the hand that cradled his balls in a wide, warm palm while he made out with the colonel slowly, wetly, sucking lewdly on his tongue as he picked apart Hogan's clothes with sly tenderness. In a careful sweep he pulled them away with little effort and left them to hang with Hogan's jacket. 

He wanted him. He wanted him so badly it hurt. At some point in his life Klink managed to convince himself that he had no chance with Hogan. Surely a man like that would eventually settle with a woman, have children and a home, a complete life. He should not want Wilhelm Klink, a washed up, grounded pilot who ran a prison camp, and who was not all that he seemed. The shoddy grey suit that Hogan found to be  _so striking_  was only one part of the man that the colonel had been familiar with. Here is where the darkness grew thicker and thicker around them as Klink's world dissolved and gave way to the enthrallment of liquor and sex.   
  
“Hogan, you feel so good.” The kommandant said between softer, sweeter kisses against his naked shoulders and neck, his hands combed against his chest to feel his skin. Hogan was remarkably soft much to Klink's delight. “May I?” He asked as his hands found the clasp over Hogan's belt buckle, his greed already getting the better of him.

“Yes...” Hogan could hardly distinguish his own voice, but Klink seemed to understand. Gentle hands fussed at the front of his pants and he trembled thinking of what Klink was about to do to him. He wheezed for breath— his chest was starting to feel like there was a bucket of water balanced on his ribcage. Now he deeply regretted having so much to drink. He was probably rushing into a bad decision by doing this, as he so often did. He wanted Klink so badly but he wondered how much of it was driven by his need to control the man. He needed answers. He needed to explore what he'd been too scared to, even with Farelli. But he didn't need to get Klink involved with his personal issues, not unless he believed it would benefit him. This was all just another manipulative little game.   
  
_That's not true_ , he thought at the darkness rolling over him. Doubt settled on his shoulders. Klink had unfasted his belt and was working on his trousers. Hogan desperately tried to focus on what should have been an enlightening experience. The music had stopped and the record player was making the most irritating repetitive clicking noise. Why did he feel so  _bad_ all at once? Why couldn't he lay back and revel as Klink skillfully handled his cock? Klink’s eager hands dipped under the waistband of his boxers. He grimaced before he realized he was doing it.

Klink, to his credit, quickly withdrew his hand. In a moment he was kneeling over Hogan again and kissing him, a hand moving to sharply grab a fistful of his hair. Hogan's heart raced. Somewhere along the lines there was a disconnect, an error in Hogan's system. Klink's lips against his jaw and neck didn't feel as delightful as they should have. It felt invasive. The voice muttering affectionately against his skin was no longer whispering sweet words, it was repeating an order in German. 

  
  
Hogan tried to jerk his head but the hand held firmly onto his hair. He tried to look away but the man stood so close he held his face was only inches away. Hogan could smell fresh cigarette smoke on the rotten breath. The first thing he saw when he could focus his vision was a neat little tie tack with a tiny swastika on it. He remembered the crash, vaguely. Even more vaguely he recalled being cut out of the smoldering fuselage and loaded into the back of a truck. Between that moment and now he'd been lost. Perhaps days had passed. His head felt swollen like he'd had a concussion.   
  
“Robert Edward Hogan. You are a Colonel, yes? We thought you might never decide to join us.” The man spoke like he was rather proud of himself. Hogan scowled. Not this bastard again. Beady eyes blinked but then turned pouty and worried. “Colonel Hogan? Hogan?”

  
  
Hogan jolted. Klink stared down at him, a concerned look spreading across his face. He'd gone limp in an instant and Klink was almost frantically trying to stuff him back into his uniform.   
  
“Stop, I'm fine.” Hogan snapped, as much at himself as to Klink. He tried to squeeze himself through his pants, to angrily will his body back to how eager it had felt not a moment prior. Klink's hands were stupidly in the way and he only worsened the struggle. “Everything is  _fine_ , I said  _stop_.”   
  
The concerned look on Klink's face sharpened into something even more painful.

“You don't have to force yourself to do this, Colonel Hogan.” He said softly, gently. He didn't seem to be feeling sorry for himself, yet Hogan felt a sudden jab of anger.   
  
“I didn't say you were forcing me into anything!” He gave up trying to get hard again. The moment was already ruined and it was all his fault. “This has never happened to me. It's not you.” Klink pouted. Hogan could have screamed. “It's not you! It has nothing to do with you!”

He was so angry at himself, at the situation. Couldn't Klink see that? What was happening to him? Each time he closed his eyes now he was either surrounded by burning wreckage or crouched in a damp, pitch-black cell with Cigarette Breath jingling the keys outside. He so desperately wanted to return to the bliss he'd felt with Klink, but his brain seemed intent on living right in the middle of the most horrifying moments of his life.

Panic started to simmer in his belly when he couldn't make the thoughts go away.   
  
“Stop! God, stop!” He clutched his head. He shouldn't have gotten so drunk. He couldn't focus anymore, couldn't out-think his own mind. He couldn't get a grasp on where he was, _who_ he was. Time rolled in ten different directions. Stemming from the night he'd been shot down, he began to recall every difficult interaction with every person he'd ever wronged.

He remembered a sabotage mission with his men that went drastically wrong— he watched a farmhouse erupt into flames, heard the screams of horses and cattle tied up helplessly in their barn. He tried to look away from the carnage and saw instead his mother cussing and crying and burning photos of the father that had walked out on them.   
  
“I was  _twelve_ , you selfish prick. I was all she had.” He spoke now to the face he’d tried to forget the day he watched the pictures burn. How could a child of twelve take care of a mother who wasted away in bed and cried every night? The boys he met outside the dancehall understood, and they laughed together as they broke windows and knocked over parking meters. The men he commanded were exactly the same, but they justified their vandalism in the name of war, revenge. How many innocent Germans had they killed, had they terrorized? Worst of all was the terror they inflicted on Klink, who only wanted to keep them comfortable and healthy while they were his prisoners.   
  
“I'm so sorry I did this to you,” Hogan sobbed dryly. He slowly opened his eyes and was met by that concerned face, now looking a little less hurt and a little more confused. He realized that Klink had no idea whatsoever about what was happening inside Hogan's head. He also realized that Klink was still sitting calmly beside him. They made eye contact and Hogan gulped as Klink laid a hand gently over his own.

 

“I-I'm sorry,” he repeated. Now that he was beginning to feel a little more present, he was completely embarrassed of himself and the scene he'd just made. He couldn’t even be certain what he’d said or done in front of Klink. “I don't know what's wrong. I don't know why this is happening. I just want to be with you. You must be so disappointed.”

“This isn't about me.” Klink advised as he moved off of him to give him some room. It was reflexive when Klink reached for his hands— both of them— and held them in his own as if to anchor Hogan in place. His eyes were far away, confused and angry, and when he looked at Klink he did not see him, he saw someone else. And the room they were in— Klink wondered where Hogan was, what else he saw with how violently he reacted.   
  
It was hard not to take the colonel's sudden and unprovoked rage so personally but he knew that whatever the case was, it was not his fault. Had he done something to inspire or trigger it? He wouldn't have known. In an instant it was almost as if he was reliving the night before as he watched Carter sink deep into himself right before lighting the rec hall up like it was Christmas. Something had disturbed Hogan and all Klink could do was helplessly stand by and hope that when he came around he wouldn't be so angry.   
  
Had it happened before? Judging by Hogan's reactions, probably not. Yet it didn't help for him to be completely intoxicated when the worst of it dropped onto his shoulders. It didn't help for him to be in such a vulnerable position with the kommandant either. What horrible things had Hogan seen? What unspeakable actions had he taken in his military life that could break a brilliant mind like that? Klink wondered, he always had.   
  
“Don't apologize.” He said in a soft voice that was unusual for even him. By now Klink was knelt on the floor in front of him, both arms resting against Hogan's lap as he held his hands tight in his own, squeezing them in a way that would help the man remember what was real. “The mind of a man who has been broken by war, these memories can be very dangerous when left unaccounted for, like Carter. Who wants to face them though? Who wants to relive those moments ever again? It’s why we are terrified of being alone, and why we are even more afraid of being with another, I feel.”

Klink could have wept thinking about all the times that he  _was_  alone when it had happened to him. It still did, and sometimes the delusions were so terrifying they chased him for hours, sometimes days. They haunted Klink and they haunted his prisoners. The demons of the past were relentless and now, they had finally caught up to Hogan. How long? Klink wondered quietly as Hogan regained his senses again. How long had Hogan spent running away from his past?   
  
“You may stay with me as long as you care to. Stay the night if you like. I'll even sleep on the couch.” He felt enslaved by Hogan—he felt like a prisoner, but more willing than any of his own. Klink held onto Hogan's hands as if they were a rope inside of a deep and dark cave which lead Hogan to the way out. He hoped that Hogan would recover with the same feelings for him that he’d had before his blinding oblivion, or at least refrain from the utter look of disgust he might soon wear knowing Klink had touched him,  _kissed_  him.

Either way, he would wait for him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Descriptions of war; Hogan experiences a minor psychotic episode. Mild sexual content.
> 
> Hogan and Klink dance together. Feeling euphoric they start kissing and things heat up quickly. They are interrupted by Schultz and something about it makes Hogan start to feel weird and uneasy. They become increasingly intimate but Hogan’s weird feeling gets worse and he starts having delusions and flashbacks. Klink sits with him until it’s over and tries to help him feel better after.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for detailed chapter summary concerning this work's tags and content warnings. Thank you for reading!
> 
> Thank you so much to those who have been following this story! The writing is complete and we are in the process of editing and posting the final chapters.

Like everyone else in this cursed place, he was a victim of circumstances.

Hogan needed to be reasonable, and he couldn't regret the things he'd put Klink through in the line of duty. But he couldn't accept the kindness being offered to him now, despite the sudden surge of sentimentality he seemed to be fighting. Klink didn't deserve any of this, Hogan’s throbbing brain at last decided. He gripped Klink's hands and realized that he was trembling beyond his control. How embarrassing! All this because he got too drunk and he'd had a  _memory_ — despite his disbelief he realized that his heartbeat was like a drum roll. 

“We can talk about it... if you’d like?” Klink anxiously filled the uncomfortable silence, not sure where they stood now as Hogan gazed up at him. He had his own stories. Being shirtless proved it with the welts and scars he wore on his skin. He never truly talked about his history before. Hogan had been the first one to hear all the true details about how he’d acquired his Iron Cross. Hogan's little claim about his famous nickname had been a lie and even Klink wasn't stupid enough to believe it, but Hogan had tried to comfort him with it, not hurt him— and that was beyond what anyone else would have done. 

“I was so mad at Carter,” Hogan admitted mournfully when he tried to speak, like he could cry in a moment. Humiliated as he already was he couldn't stand it if Klink saw him bawl his eyes out. “I thought he was acting  _crazy_! I couldn't believe anyone could be so stupid to flip his lid over something like that, especially one of my guys. Just because I had to go and say something jerky at roll call. Well, _you_ haven't done anything wrong tonight and just look at  _me_!” He felt worse about it considering his rank. He shouldn't be wearing his eagles if he could go and break down like this in front of an enemy soldier.   
  
“Who am I kidding?” He asked aloud at the thought. Klink was hardly an enemy soldier, especially in this setting. Indeed, the Gestapo agent who had interrogated him after he’d been shot down was a more fearsome enemy, and Hogan had never broken in such a way. He remembered that period of time very clearly now— he'd handled himself easily, perfectly. He never paused to consider the immediate terror he'd felt waking up from a concussion only to find himself in handcuffs. The initial, raw animalistic fear of being a prisoner in an unfriendly land, in addition to being unable to move to fight or defend himself. He had never acknowledged that fear because he'd stifled it so smoothly, and he'd never thought that it would matter.

No wonder his men didn't tell him things. He'd never told them anything either. How could he when he hadn’t even thought about it himself?  
  
Now what? His head was still heavy. He closed his eyes and rubbed his temple when he began to smell the burning wreckage again. Or was it the cigarette breath, or perhaps his mother's smoldering photographs?   
  
“I have to sober up a little. I can't think. I can't make it stop.” Klink gave his hand a squeeze and he tried to focus on that if nothing else. Sharp eyes met his and then ashamedly looked away, so he dropped his gaze to Klink's bare shoulders. With Klink doing his bidding he could accomplish anything in this war, but when he kissed him it felt for a few moments as if there was no war at all.

It had been so freeing to explore the side of himself he'd stifled for his entire military career. Another man against him was exciting and invigorating. He liked where he stood with Klink and he'd liked the person he was when he let his guard down. He'd been detached from the tough outer layer he constantly lived under, and maybe that was why he’d crashed so hard this time. It was what Klink meant when he said that it was more frightening at times to be with another person than to be alone.   
  
Klink was too honest, too nice, and too easily forgiving. He rose for a moment to pour a glass of water. Hogan watched him move across the room— half-dressed, muscles in his back moving with each step. A long, thin scar began somewhere under his arm and cut across his ribs toward his navel. Hogan fixed his eyes on the point and stared until he no longer felt the straps in the plane cutting into his shoulders, no longer smelled the smoldering wreckage. Klink offered him the glass and he forgot what he'd been so angry about as the cool water soothed his parched throat.   
  
“Thank you. It's helping.” He tried to pull himself together as Klink refilled the water from a porcelain pitcher. A smile threatened at the corners of his mouth. Strange, Hogan thought, but he was grateful now that he’d had his breakdown alone with Klink and not in his barracks in front of all his men. Klink wouldn't judge him, wouldn't lose faith in him because he saw him falter. He seemed to be taking it quite graciously, in fact. Now that he knew it wasn't his fault, he didn't even appear bothered.

 

“I wanna try again. In a few minutes, maybe. I'd like to go wash my face first. Is it too late for that?” Progress; Hogan’s shaking hands ceased. “Can we kill that overhead light? Or maybe move to your bedroom?”

 

Klink knew the torture Hogan must be feeling right now. He knew how much it made the mind hurt and the heart ache and the body shiver with its own memories. He knew it so well, he could almost feel the pins and needles of anxiety threatening to crawl back into him from the bottoms of his feet where he had stamped it down. The tension made him eager to help Hogan, to distract him and to shepherd him away from the delusions that threatened to take him away from this moment. Klink wanted him more than the void did, and he wouldn't let Hogan slip away from him just yet, not while he had him here like this. Not while he had the chance to witness another aspect of Hogan that only made his mind swell with intrigue. 

“The bedroom may be the best. The bathroom is in there. I'm turning out the lights and stoking the fire. You may use anything you can find.” He pondered whether Hogan could even find anything to his liking. His bathroom had more than enough oils and colognes, one or two nice towels like the ones that he’d more than once secretly snuck into Hogan's Red Cross packages, and hand-milled soaps that were scented of pine tar and musk. He stumbled into the door to open it for Hogan with a light-hearted laugh, smiling softly at him once more.   
  
Klink's room was oddly modest, some of his amenities if not most of them were altogether missing. People like Hogan would know exactly where they all were, somewhere dispersed among the prisoners in other barracks as well as his own. He had given most of it away on request simply to avoid worsening the debt on his monthly budget. Schultz's personal quarters had been weeded out as well—no one was safe from Klink's penny pinching, not even himself. Burkhalter had inquired too many times for Klink to risk any more suspicion. For this whole fire to happen, they would surely be hurting worse this month than usual.   
  
This was not to say that his room was like that of the prisoners’ quarters. He gave up certain luxuries in the name of clothes and cologne. His suits were all matters of ceremony; this late in the war he still owned a black one, a grey one, a storm blue and a taupe one. In addition, three pairs of civilian shoes, all neatly lined up and perfectly polished. A modest table beside his full sized bed had nothing but a dim lamp. The drawer and cupboard beneath it was full of the few other odd attractions that the kommandant owned.   
  
“I had my own inspection earlier this week. They've been coming without warning. For _us_ , not you.” He drunkenly mentioned as he tore the swastika-emblazoned flag off the wall and wadded it up only to throw it down beneath his bed. The Gestapo liked to come just to upset him and make him nervous. He imagined it was one of their many tactics to strengthen loyalty through fear. The idea made him shudder as he cozied into his house coat, a warm robe laid out on the bed beside the place where he sat as he waited quietly for Hogan.

“How do you feel now, my dear?” He wondered, worried about the man's silence in the bathroom, the whiskey still racing through him in a way that made time feel much longer than it actually was. 

 

Hogan splashed cool water on his face, leaning over the sink after he'd finished in the bathroom. His reflection scowled tiredly at him, his body exhausted from so much adrenaline cutting through his veins. His age was beginning to show because of this damn war, silver hair becoming more prominent at his temples with each passing day. All the more reason not to act the way he had been tonight, although at least he could tell himself the whole experience would serve to better help him understand his men. How many of them had felt like this and shown it in less destructive ways?   
  
Klink called out to him from the other side of the door. He couldn't believe _he'd_ been the one who wanted to move to the bedroom. Now he was certain he was going crazy, but it wasn’t just because he still wanted Klink even though he'd passed most of the liquor he'd taken in earlier. Now more than ever he anticipated his touch. Part of him wished he'd thought of this sooner. Klink would surely be more malleable after tonight, although he tried not to think of it like that. He wanted more than to manipulate him. After all, Klink had seen him have an upset like a child and still wanted to be with him. Klink was waiting for him to return whenever he was ready.   
  
Indeed he sat neatly on his bed once Hogan came out, having covered up with his satin house coat. At the quaint sight, Hogan smiled for the first time in a while. Even out of uniform he looked stiff and polished, until he cracked and giddily gestured to the spare robe he'd brought out. It was a welcome comfort and Hogan pulled the collar up tight around his neck once he’d slipped it on.

Hogan sat beside Klink on the bed. Too intimate with each other now to hesitate, he placed a hand on Klink's thigh.   
  
“Thank you. I mean it.” He tried to relax, to soften his voice and his expression. “I think I'm feeling a little better now.” Indeed his mind had slowed. He saw only Klink's parted lips now and he stole a quick kiss before he could speak. It was electric and energizing. Hogan moaned slightly and moved in for a longer, deeper kiss that left Klink a little dreary-eyed when they parted. 

“For now.” Klink knowingly said as he reached up to comb his fingers through Hogan's hair. “I'll help you forget all about it, I promise.” Hogan kissed him quickly at first but Klink wanted more. He was already holding the colonel's head between his hands by fistfuls of dark hair. In the time it had taken for them to move from the living room to the bedroom, Klink felt for sure that he'd starve to death if he didn't get another kiss off of him before the night was over. 

“Yeah?” Hogan found himself genuinely smiling again when they parted. “You said you'd thought about what you'd like to do to me. What did you have in mind?”  
  
“Spoiling you,” there was no hesitation in the answer, no blink of an eye to deny that truth. Klink leaned over his lap and reached down with his hand to pull at Hogan’s shoelaces while the other rested against his groin with intention. “I don't want to scare you, Hogan, but,” he popped the laces on the opposite foot and began to unwind them while he looked back over his shoulder with a somewhat menacing grin. “—I've thought up just about everything. Today I was thinking about handcuffing you to my headboard.” Why lie when he knew these were the things that he _really_ liked? Hogan deserved to know his true desires from the very beginning.

“I was thinking about your lips, what they taste like. Your moans against my mouth and the feeling of your tongue as I suck it. I think of it often.”

 A part of him lamented letting go of his private thoughts. Now Hogan could use much more effective ways to lure him or to hurt him by. Still, he trusted Hogan enough to let him into his own world which only grew darker every day. 

Hogan was just beginning to relax again when Klink mentioned handcuffs. He shivered at the description but was pleasantly surprised when his anxiety didn't return after considering it. He prayed it wouldn't hit him so hard again, and if it did he would be ready for it this time. It was so easy, he realized, to casually mention something to someone for whom it held a different meaning. Klink couldn't have known that Hogan had been handcuffed before, just as Hogan couldn't have known about what happened to Carter. Increasingly bold hands roaming freely over Hogan's chest kept him firmly rooted to the bed. This time he would hold onto Klink tightly so he wouldn't slip away.   
  
“What do you think of that?” By now Klink was crawling over Hogan as they relaxed further into his bed to get comfortable. Klink pinned him down quite casually as he laid against his belly and leaned in to kiss Hogan deeply and slowly. Hogan needed to feel the weight of a man against him, to feel strong working hands against his skin, and the hard knot of Klink's desire digging into his thigh as the kommandant rubbed himself against his body quite forwardly. 

"I trust you," Hogan answered truthfully. Klink was probably one of the most trustworthy people in Germany, all things considered. If there was anybody he could be sure wouldn't take advantage of him in a bad spot, it was him. Klink had loosed a satin belt from one of their robes and the cool material trailing lightly against his waist and arms tickled and made him squirm. His body recovered from the anxious ordeal quickly and he was already throbbing against the hand that groped at the front of his pants. He found himself wishing he could tell Klink some equally exciting ideas. He'd ignored any interest he'd ever had in men so much that he'd never allowed himself to spend any thought on what he'd like to do.   
  
Klink did not see any other way to go other than to simply guide Hogan. His hands were already pulling at the top button of his trousers before working on the remaining row of them quickly. His hand slipped under his clothes to at last feel Hogan hot and getting hotter against the palm of his hand. Hogan didn't seem to protest the feeling and Klink eagerly sought to drive him as mad. He groped at his balls and squeezed them just to feel how hard they were. The kommandant couldn't help but hum in pleasure knowing that Hogan could be this way with him, and it encouraged him to continue.   
  


“I'd like to see your hands over your head. If you trust me, of course.” He suggested with a grin. The robes came off but he had pulled the belt off of one of them. The silk felt incredibly good against his skin but it would look even better holding Hogan in place just so he could learn to let go of some of his tension. Putting his trust in someone like Klink would be incredibly liberating, but Klink knew the reasons to do such a thing were outweighed by the reasons he shouldn't.

Hogan could try to focus on the similarities he knew from what he'd had, but it seemed foolish to pretend Klink was a girl. The hand that cupped the back of his head found enough interest in the clipped gray hair it encountered. His waist enjoyed being held by strong hands instead of delicate ones. Being spoiled meant more than being showered in gifts and luxuries, he realized. He wanted to know the thrill of laying back and being lavished with attention. 

“If I was gonna do something like that, I'd rather be tied down with something like this,” Hogan admitted, taking hold of the satin belt. “One of—,”  _your people_  he wanted to say scornfully but changed his mind, “—the Gestapo thought it was funny to put me in handcuffs after I'd been captured. I was unconscious, by the way, not exactly much of a threat. I came to and I couldn't move. It felt like waking up inside a coffin.” He had never spoken about it before and it was strange to try to find the words. Difficult, but he did it because he owed it to Klink to try to tell him. “That bastard can't touch me now. I'll give it a shot, I'm not afraid. But no handcuffs. _Ever_.”  
  
Klink stared back at him, perhaps in disbelief, like he'd been ready for Hogan to put up more of an argument on the subject. Suddenly he realized it was a hell of a thing to agree to, but when he tried to imagine it he pictured himself laid back comfortably with his head lolling about on the pillow in ecstasy. Sex without all the hard work, just like for a broad. Of course, this thought brought up another issue of concern he knew he should address before they got ahead of themselves. 

“What about— I mean, do you want me to fuck you?” It seemed unlikely between what Klink had described and the skeptical look that showed briefly on Klink's face at the suggestion. “Okay, so, do you... want to fuck me?” An apprehensive knot formed in his belly at the thought. “I ought to tell you, I've never done that before. Now you know. But I'm not opposed...”

A knowing, charmed smile spread across Klink's face. Once again Hogan found himself playing the more vulnerable role between them as he struggled with the discussion.

“What? Is there something I'm not getting? So I don't know— suppose you tell me all about it?” Then, unable to suppress his own grin, he grabbed Klink by the waist and jerked him into a tight embrace. “I just want you to make me feel good. Maybe do the same for you. I’ll figure it out myself if you won’t tell me.”

 

Klink sighed blissfully. Hogan's openness was very refreshing, enough to make the kommandant have a good natured chuckle. He couldn't help the smirk that cracked his face when Hogan grabbed him and pulled him against his warm body. 

Regardless of his charm, Hogan was far from a complacent partner— nonetheless he was everything the kommandant needed to feel alive. Klink desperately hoped Hogan would ultimately want the things that he wanted to give. He was mouthy, disrespectful, conniving, and disobedient. Half the time Klink didn't know if he should transfer him to another camp and be done with him. There were so many other things he could take or leave about this arrangement, but for now he wanted to keep things simple.

“I prefer to give rather than to receive. I don’t want much—there is more to it than what you’re preoccupied about now. In time you will understand, of course.” He gestured to the satin belt in his hands with an odd sort of shrug. This proposal had not been his first time suggesting a thing like tying someone up just to pleasure them.   
  
“Anyway, you'll have to learn to do everything I say if you want me to make you scream in pleasure like that.” His finger traced the crest of Hogan's ear teasingly before dropping down behind the soft lobe of it. Slowly he ran his finger along Hogan's strong jaw before hooking it under his chin to pull his head up for a soft kiss. He lingered on it, Hogan's lips quite satisfying to his own growing need. 

“Everything you say, huh?” Hogan asked when they parted. He offered a challenging smirk like he’d wear in Klink’s office. “I’d like to see what you mean by that.”  
  
“I intend to invest a lot of time in this if you find that you like it.” Klink said plainly. “I'll fuck you when you’re ready. It is never good to rush into it however." He waited a measure of time to continue, as if he was letting Hogan ponder what he’d said. He spoke with reassurance, his voice was strong and steady, so dark and velvety in the bedroom as opposed to the sniveling whimper he used the rest of his life. 

 

“I doubt I’m like any lover you’ve had, Robert. Don't worry though, I’m sure you'll learn to appreciate it.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sexual content; uncomfortable conversations.
> 
> Hogan comes down from his delusional episode; Klink is really nice and patient with him. Hogan wants to keep going so they discuss sex and try to get more comfortable with each other. Hogan tells Klink a little about some of the difficult events that caused his breakdown. They discuss boundaries; Klink begins to explain some of his sexual interests, including tying Hogan up.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for detailed summary concerning this work's tags and content warnings. NOTE: This chapter contains explicit sexual content and the detailed summary does as well!!
> 
> Thank you for reading!

“It’s all very simple, Hogan. You’re tired of decisions—as such, you won’t make any when we have our time together. You only get to tell me when I should stop. When I stop, it will be over for that night, so remember that or you might be aching for me to let you finish for a very long time.”

Klink laid it out in well-practiced English for Hogan, no room for teasing this time. He needed to be sure that Hogan knew what he was getting himself into. Once they began there was no undoing what was done. As it stood, things would never be normal between them again after this night.  

“I do want to fuck you, but this is a different experience. I want you to enjoy what happens here.” It would be difficult to contain himself— perhaps tonight would be a lesson in patience for the two of them. He couldn't hide his delight. His eyes glittered cunningly over Hogan's bare chest and all of the delectable muscles of his stomach.

Hogan held his hands in front of him, watching in silent fascination as Klink wound the satin belt around his wrists. He made a loose loop and then pulled it into a knot a sailor would be proud of. It was hard to believe this was the same bumbling bureaucrat who sat behind a desk all day. Klink moved with practiced ease, urging Hogan back onto the bed and lifting his arms above him. It was certainly a compromising position to be in, although the circumstances were so unusual it seemed to keep the anxious thoughts at bay. Hogan gave a tentative tug once Klink had secured him to the bed frame. He was sure he could tear his hands free if he really tried, but it wasn't a matter of whether he could escape. There was no escaping the shame that this bizarre tableau already made him visibly hard.

He glanced to Klink from where he was tied. His kommandant’s eyes were calm and reassuring even though his voice had been dead serious. 

Klink’s confidence was unlike the personality Hogan had learned to manipulate. With his hands tied up, he wouldn't have much room to start talking down to him, and Klink hoped he knew it. He wanted so much more but only in due time, and only if Hogan could survive his first night. Skilled hands secured the colonel's wrists before he straddled his chest, his dick so hard and obvious behind the tailored pants they could've busted a seam. It was a matter of personal discipline as to why he chose to stay dressed. That, and Klink was always a man of aesthetic, certainly Hogan had to have known that. 

 

Klink sat back and tugged Hogan's pants down having already loosed the laces around his ankles. With another dutiful pull he stripped him bare of his socks as well.

“Hogan, no one on this earth should wear socks without complete attire,” he made sure to explain.

He'd had the audacity to tear away his briefs in the process before getting up and gathering all of the garments shed. Hogan was left alone on the bed to watch Klink handle his effects, which were folded with care and placed on top of Klink’s dresser. The kommandant looked so different without the stiff uniform which hid away toned muscle. That, and the scars which were more visible in the lamplight made him appear menacing in his own way as he flashed Hogan another smile before climbing back onto the bed. Now Hogan's cock was so painfully erect it was damn near resting up against his belly.   
  
Klink’s hands traced over every muscle and curve of his legs, teasing the man to the point of madness as his finger ghosted over the velvety soft skin of his eagerness. When it twitched against his hand he collared the girth of Hogan's arousal in a fist and moved down on him with his mouth to get a first taste.   


 

Klink was a pervert, this he knew— he enjoyed the slick texture of precum on his tongue, and was lewd enough to open his mouth and lick it off of the slit of Hogan's dick for him to see. A hot breath was expelled as he went back down on him, the swollen head of the colonel's cock disappearing into an eager mouth which sucked him down slowly and deeply, until the thrum of Hogan's erratic heartbeat could be felt in his own throat. 

Hogan didn't expect the groan that passed his lips before he could recognize it as his own voice. Klink was filthy, lust burning behind the eyes that stared up at him. Never had Hogan been looked at with such intense desire, and never had he enjoyed such a hot, eager mouth on him. He jerked back against the bed, gasping as Klink's lips sank further and further until the aquiline nose was buried in dark hair. It was so good he could've cried out but he lost his breath for a long and blinding moment, so close to tipping over the edge already, but he managed to catch himself before came. His mouth hung open in a silent scream and his arms pulled fruitlessly at the satin band.   
  
And then, as swiftly as Klink had taken him in his mouth, he pulled back, licking his lips quite wantonly. Hogan groaned again, loudly, as chilly air struck his wet cock.   
  
Klink’s cheeks were so red his blue eyes were pale by comparison. His lips were full and swollen from sucking so hard around the flourishing arousal. He was impressed with how long Hogan could stand getting head— but how long would he last if Klink chose to swallow him? How much longer after that when he decided to go so slow it would make the colonel scream in frustration? His own body ached to be touched, it wanted so much more than what Klink would give to himself, the restraint on his pants was physically painful but still he resisted, both of his hands were busy on Hogan anyway as he squeezed at his hard balls and caressed the soft hair on his tensed thighs.

 

  
“How is it?” He wondered, his head dropping low to run the tip of his long tongue down the length of his cock, his breath hot on Hogan’s balls as he considered whether or not he could outlast getting them sucked.

“More...” Hogan croaked weakly. Already he was begging shamelessly. He took to the role easier than he'd imagined. There was no comparison. Klink's mouth was the finest he'd ever had. He could've wailed as the horrifying reality struck him. The only thing worse than accepting how badly he wanted the kommandant was not having him.

“More?” He asked Hogan as his fingertip swirled around the head of abandoned cock. Now Klink was just playing with him, Hogan's attention centered entirely on getting Klink to give him what he wanted— what he needed. Judging by the way Hogan writhed in pleasured agony against restraints which held him, he was getting close. Klink would starve him of it until he broke down into the very primitive parts that had kept him alive all this while.

“I believe sex is our reward for having to endure this life, as if we deserve anything else.” Klink never would have expected Hogan to beg for it so soon, but already the man's stubborn will was dissolving. He was so distracted with Klink's hand on his cock that he didn't see the man reach over for his riding crop, which he’d carefully laid on his nightstand hours earlier when having Hogan in his bed was just a distant, silly fantasy in the mind of a sad man. 

Hogan rocked his hips slowly, thrusting at Klink's teasingly close mouth. He wanted to call him by his name but it was still too new. It must be inappropriate though to call him by his rank or title in a moment like this. “Please, sir...” It slipped out before he could help it and he blushed furiously at himself for how interesting it was to say such a thing. When Klink began to carry on, he opened his eyes and forced them to focus. His gaze landed on the crop displayed in Klink’s hands. The question on his mind must have shown quite clearly on his face.

 

“Ah, Robert.” Klink smiled.

  
  
A hard crack sounded out against the curve of Hogan's ass followed by another one in quick succession. A pop so hard it would certainly leave a cherry spot for the colonel to be sore about later. Klink trusted that Hogan would tell him when to stop.

Hogan did finally cry out as the crop came down on him. When had Klink decided to do _that_ with it? Suddenly the equine tool seemed a little less impractical for the former pilot to keep— the kommandant preferred to break unruly prisoners rather than horses. Did anyone else realize what it was that Klink was carrying around all the time? Now Hogan didn’t feel like such a pervert after all.

He writhed at the second swing. His thigh must've been sporting a decent sized welt by now. It stung and he hissed a tight breath through clenched teeth. Hogan's cock throbbed uncomfortably and he forced his eyes open to gawk wide-eyed at Klink, who in turn was wearing a wicked grin and clutching the riding crop pointedly in front of him. Who was this man and what had he done with the bumbling Colonel Klink? 

“I am not your _Sir_ , this is not the army and I am not your drill sergeant. Do you understand?” His grin was as sharp as the command being given. “If you want to speak to me, you will call me _Herr Oberst_.”

It was too good. Hogan couldn't believe that he wanted more. He wished he could reach forward and clutch the angry bulge at the front of Klink's trousers. They remained buttoned and tucked into the polished black boots he still wore. Nude only from the waist up, Klink cast a formidable but handsome silhouette. Hogan didn't know what to do. He wanted Klink to feel as excited as he did. He wanted to return the effort. A little coyly, he wet his lips.   
  
“Yes, Herr Oberst,” he swallowed the German title trying to pronounce it correctly. Klink nodded slightly and Hogan felt encouraged. Was it enough for Klink to play this strange game? If he couldn't touch him and stroke his dick perhaps he could stroke his ego. “Thank you, Herr Oberst.” Despite Klink's orders not to speak to him like a drill sergeant, he offered the same submission he had in boot camp.   
  
Another swat from the riding crop made him gasp and moan. He lifted his legs, bracing his feet so that Klink had a better shot at the softest part of his ass. His cock throbbed as he anticipated the next blow. 

The way Hogan twisted with every kiss of the leather made Klink's body ache more and more. He wanted to show Hogan just how badly he was wanted, how badly Klink needed him. His blood boiled in his veins and his skin itched with the desire to be touched by Hogan.   
  
Soon. He reassured himself so as not to get too hasty with himself.   
  
Soon.   
  
He continued,   
  
_“Danke, Herr Oberst.”_ His kommandant wanted the words perfect. Hogan seemed to understand without needing the directions to do so, and moved in such a way to make himself that much more vulnerable to the man. Klink let him rest for only a moment before he used the crop on him again, the way Hogan's body jilted was rather delightful to look upon. “Say it. Again.” He growled under his breath, which was growing heavy with need. Hogan obliged him again and again until it was apparent that he learned what it was that Klink was asking of him. When he finally gasped the words, Klink lowered the crop to a less threatening level, traced it over the hot skin gently. He was sure it would bruise and leave Hogan with something to think about later.   
  
“Hogan, you surprise me.” He was beyond pleased that the poor man wasn't telling him to stop and demanding to be released. In the darkest moments of his life, his wildest dreams had come true. No doubt Hogan’s ass was screaming—dark red blossomed on the soft flesh. “You impress me.” He admitted on a softer note before popping the top button to his trousers. At once the rest of the buttons came apart. Hogan's eyes seemed to be quite focused on him now and so Klink would give him something to look at while Klink continued to draw out a much anticipated orgasm for the bound man.   
  
A relieved sigh escaped him as he let his painfully erect cock drop heavily from the waistband of his briefs. It seemed as though Hogan had been torturing him just the same. By denying what was inevitable, he was able to get more cooperation out of Hogan than he ever had. Now, with his hand wrapped around his own cock to show it off to him, he had his full, adoring attention as well. It was something else he wasn't used to, but was quietly reveling in having it. 

 

There was no preparing for the visual scene playing out before him. Klink unbuttoned his fly with precise deliberation, drawing out the big reveal. All the attention made him feel appreciated, made him feel beautiful in a way he didn't know he could. Hogan could not have anticipated his reaction— Klink's angry erection was all for him and it made him feel quite special. The only thought that came to his delirious mind was that not a man in this camp would believe him if he tried to tell anyone the size of Klink's dick.  
  
“Look what you've done to me. I could tell you about all the times I've sat behind my desk, like this, but somehow I think you have already come to know this about me.” Klink gave a lurid grin before crawling over him again. Their dicks, equally hot and hard for one another, rubbed together with delightful friction as he sought Hogan's mouth out once again for a hungry and biting kiss.   
  
Hogan groaned empathetically when Klink gave himself a slow, languid stroke. He was too sweet even now, praising Hogan so soon after whipping him. Hogan wanted more of the crop even though his thighs and ass were stinging with hot welts, and he was too involved now in Klink's twisted world to wonder why something so horrid felt so exhilarating. Klink climbed over him, urging his legs apart. Hogan's knees instinctively fought to keep together, but he easily willed himself past the anxiety at this point as Klink poured his tongue into Hogan's mouth. He moaned through his nose at the feeling of the burning, vulgar cock against his own. He couldn't hold on much longer if this kept up.   
  
“Fuck, that's nice, Colonel,” he desperately choked when they parted, immediately earning himself another volley from the riding crop. He hadn't realized it was a defiant comment— there was a vastly different set of rules in Klink's bedroom than there were in the Army. Despite the precarious roles they were currently playing, he somehow felt closer to being Klink's equal than ever before. Even as the leather cracked on his skin again and again, making him jump and spasm with each blow, he felt less like a prisoner and more like a willful lover. Was he sick? It was quite likely.   
  
“Please, Herr Oberst,” he tried after the whipping subsided and he could take another gasping breath. He wanted that pressure on his cock again, wanted Klink to touch him nicely and spoil him. The pain was blinding but his cock only ached more and more. “C’mon, touch me! I want that pretty mouth again…” Klink hovered over him, smiling adoringly down at him, but did not oblige. “Please! _Bitte_? Bitte, bitte Herr Oberst.” He would beg in any language Klink wanted. He would've begged in Chinese if Klink ordered him to. 

“Hogan you'll destroy me one day.” Klink breathed the words in hot wonder over Hogan's chest as he moaned for him, begged for him, responding so naturally without any reservations knowing he could trust Klink. If only the kommandant knew the weight of the words which he chose to whisper as secrets against Hogan's tanned, hairy chest— if only Hogan knew the foreboding in his words. He wondered if Hogan knew just how weak for him he had always been, how easy it would be to ruin him. It didn't matter anyway, Klink lived for this moment, dreamt about it, fantasizing quite often during all the times Hogan manipulated him with just a simple smile. _“It feels good to be with you. You make me feel alive.”_ He muttered in German, too embarrassed to say something so romantic at a time like this.   
  
Hogan's desperate pleas enthralled him. He could have fooled Klink with how well he moaned for more in the foreign language.

“More?” Klink grinned and obliged him this time, he would not always be so easy on Hogan but judging by the bruises already mottling his ass, maybe he wasn't as gentle as he thought he had been.  _I hope it hurts for days_ , he thought while chuckling quietly to himself as he settled between Hogan's thighs.

 

He turned his head to the side so Hogan could watch his own cock disappear into Klink's mouth, past his pouting lips. He moved in such a way it made his cheek bulge as he sucked hard and fast. He paced himself carefully, seeming to know just when to wheel it back long enough to keep Hogan rolling without completely turning over. He craned his neck so the colonel could get a good look at himself being swallowed whole. A rough grunt broke Klink's silence as he pushed Hogan down all the way inside of him, the girth of his arousal choking him in a way that instantly had Klink dripping for some kind of release. The kommandant buried his nose into the man's dark nest of hair and held long enough for Hogan to realize he wanted more.

 

Klink's mouth was like velvet. Hogan wheezed and writhed against the bed, wrists aching from pulling at the satin belt. He dare not close his eyes and miss a second of the gorgeous display, even as talented lips sucked him into blithering oblivion. Klink really knew what he was doing— Hogan dare not mention it to him, but he was an act straight out of a brothel.   
  
He gasped and Klink pulled back, just to tease him perhaps. Hogan moaned in frustration and his hips jerked forward. He carried on like this, bringing Hogan nearly to the edge and then backing away just so slightly as to make him nearly scream with need. This was the most willful, brutal side of Klink that Hogan had ever seen. It was one of the most intimate aspects of his personality, and Hogan had it all to himself.   
  
Klink's lips were his as well, and in a moment, his throat. He gulped him down and Hogan quivered, fists balling over his head, toes curling below him. Hogan couldn't believe how long Klink could sustain it. He only regretted not touching Klink's face while he swallowed him again and again. A weary sigh escaped Hogan's lips when Klink reluctantly reeled back for breath. He dug in his heels and buckled wildly at the air.   
  
“Bitte, mein Oberst...” He wailed pitifully until Klink's lips were on him again, loosely so that Hogan could fuck his mouth. His orgasm tore through him, every muscle rigid and hot. His chest and stomach were tight; Klink's fist around his balls were tighter. He trembled violently and came into Klink's open mouth.

Klink was determined to catch every last drop of the man's orgasm and to make it a point of swallowing so that Hogan could see. No part of him wondered how Hogan might feel about his kommandant doing something filthy like that and enjoying it. Later when he would be alone, he would worry it if it was all a little too much, especially now as his tongue slid lewdly up the side of his cock to catch more of it as it dripped from him like a cut. It was as if Hogan hadn't been pleasured quite like this before. Skilled hands tore him lose from his bondage so he could have something to hold onto. Klink desired more and more out of him, to feel him grip hard against his kommandant's body out of pure desperation.  
  
“Hogan, you're shaking.” Klink finally said after licking his lips lewdly, his eyes misty as he gazed down at the mess he had made out of the man beneath him. He leaned down to kiss him hard, the salty tang of Hogan's cock lingered like an afterthought as he met his lips with a breathy moan. He sucked on Hogan's tongue until the man was breathless, overwhelmed, and whimpering again.

Even though Hogan was thoroughly spent, Klink moved to sit on his chest and stroke his own cock which was still quite painfully hard. It felt good to be watched, especially by Hogan who could only gaze up at him feverishly. He allowed Hogan for a moment to touch the throbbing arousal in his hand, but Klink had other plans. 

  
  
Klink restrained him again, his entire chest lit with power as he pinned Hogan’s hands down above his head so he could only watch Klink get himself off. Without any distractions, Hogan could take in every part of Klink that he already liked. The kommandant got a sick thrill off of exhibiting himself this way. He wanted Hogan to be humbled by him, he wanted to mark him in a way that he would never forget. All those times talking down to Klink in the office—from here on out, he wanted Hogan to remember this night each time he thought he could get away with it again.

The grip on Hogan's wrists grew tighter as Klink leaned forward out of both pleasure and pain, it felt good to stroke off over Hogan but it hurt to hold back from finishing too soon. The war between want and need did not go unnoticed, he gritted his teeth and arched his back as he fought to keep himself from spilling too soon.   
  
He moaned hotly as he rocked his hips against Hogan's chest, his balls as hard as the thick uncut cock in his hands, so hard they hurt as he rubbed them into the colonel's muscled stomach. His grip was so tight that it took effort to control himself. Soon, he felt. No need to rush. Every muscle in his body was tight and full of fire, his forearm strained as he fucked the tight channel of his fist slowly until he came, a shameless load spilled across Hogan as a shaking orgasm erupted quite suddenly and with a pleasured cry of the colonel's name.

“Robert…” He wasn't sure when he had let go of Hogan's hands because his fist was clenching the pillow beside Hogan's head now, his body quaking with a long and much anticipated release. 

 

Klink sat heavily on his chest and it was all Hogan could do to gasp when Klink’s orgasm dripped onto him, falling on his face like drops of rain. He could have wept for lack of a better reaction. It was by far the most humiliating thing Klink had done to him all night, and yet he reveled wantonly in the shocking act. His hands had been unbound but then pinned down and then released again; they groped helplessly before him and at last came to settle on Klink's tensed thighs. 

He was still shaking when Klink at last heaved off of him, kicking his boots off finally and letting them drop to the floor with a loud thud. Hogan wasn't sure when he'd curled up beside the man and buried his sticky face in the crook of his neck. He felt _filthy_ — more so he felt appreciated, needed. His arm wrapped tightly around Klink's body and he traced his fingertips over the soft gray and black hair on his chest.   
  
“Thank you,” he murmured tiredly, wishing he could find something more affectionate to say but knowing there was nothing else between them beyond that. Passionate ecstasy all but gone, he tried to ignore the melancholy creeping on him again to consider the true reality of their lives. He was still a prisoner a world away from home; Klink still held the key to his freedom.   
  
“Yes, my darling,” Klink's soft reply shook him from his somber silence. A hand rubbed slow circles over the tired muscles in Hogan's back. “I hope that you will feel better after tonight.”  
  
“I will,” Hogan promised, letting his heavy eyelids rest for just a moment. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary:  
> Basically this is the porn chapter, folks.
> 
> Hogan lets Klink tie him up. Klink tells Hogan to call him by a special name; he gives him head and as per the rest of this silly fic Hogan is pleasantly surprised by the whole thing. Klink uses his riding crop to whip Hogan, then he deep throats him. After Hogan finishes, Klink humiliates him by coming on his face. Klink unties him and they drift off to sleep, although Hogan begins to worry again.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See end notes for detailed chapter summary concerning this work's tags and content warnings. Thank you so much for reading!

Hogan awoke to a darkened room, disoriented for a moment until he remembered he was not in his own quarters. He glanced to the comfortable warmth beside him. Klink slept soundly, his forearm cast dramatically over his eyes like his subconscious was trying to block him from seeing something he didn’t like.   
  
He quickly and ashamedly dressed. Somehow the thought of talking to Klink now was daunting and far too personal. He moved silently so as not to wake him, but then at the last minute returned to his bedside to pull the covers back over him before tiptoeing out of the Kommandantur and sneaking through the shadows in the compound.

 

He was asleep in his own bunk before the earliest light of dawn began to touch the hillside.   


  
The second time Hogan woke that morning he was met with dopey, innocent eyes instead of the penetrating gaze he'd drowned himself in the night before. Carter hovered over his bunk, shaking him by the shoulder.   
  
“Sorry, Colonel, but the goons are asking for you. Uh, roll call and all of that.” He spoke quickly, nervously.  
  
“Great.” Hogan clutched his head and regretted every glass he'd poured the night before.   
  
“Okay, well, see you there, Colonel,” Carter shrugged and moved to leave like he couldn’t get out fast enough.  
  
“Wait,” Hogan sat up and gestured for Carter to stay for a moment despite the young man’s obvious nerves. “Look, I didn't get a chance to talk to you yesterday. How are you doing?”  
  
Carter offered a sincere smile but stared at his feet like he was waiting for a stern lecture. “Better now that I'm not looking at a month in the Cooler. And uh. I'm sorry about the fire. Sir.”  
  
“It's alright,” Hogan said calmly, grateful that he wasn't being saluted and kowtowed to. He couldn't imagine why he'd been so angry about the poor kid before. “We've all had moments like that. Don't beat yourself up about it, okay? Just try to talk to one of us before it gets so bad next time.”  
  
“I will. Thanks, Colonel.” Carter smiled. A moment later Schultz was pounding on the door. 

  
  
Hogan leisurely pulled himself together. His heart skipped for a short moment wondering if there'd been any evidence on his face when Carter had woken him up. The night before felt like a distant dream, like something he'd read in a book rather than something he'd really done. The bruises on his thighs were real enough, though. He blushed alone in his quarters remembering the shameful way he'd begged for Klink to do all those terrible things to him. What had he been _thinking_?  
  
By the time he strolled amicably out of the barracks he'd managed to stifle those feelings. He confidently took his place in the lineup and challenged himself to stare straight ahead to where Klink stood at the top of the stairs to his office.   
  
“Colonel Hogan, how nice of you to finally join us,” Klink scowled down at him like it had all been a dream for him as well. His face betrayed no emotion and he tightened his grip on his riding crop.   
  
“Sorry, I was up late working on the tunnel last night,” Hogan replied sharply, eyes fixed on the crop so he wouldn't have to see the disappointment in Klink's eyes. “We’re just about halfway to Switzerland now.”  
  
“Of course. How very amusing.” Klink said, coming down the steps to approach him. “I also had a late night, Colonel, and yet I was on time for roll call because I don't enjoy looking _sloppy_ in front of my men.”  
  
Someone behind Hogan cleared his throat. This could get ugly. A dozen nasty replies came to mind— he tried to find one that would hit Klink where it hurt. Then Klink turned the riding crop in his hands and Hogan's heart sank. He knew he'd been bested by the kommandant, at least for now.  
  
“I won't make a habit of it.” He glared and met Klink's smarmy eyes. 

   
  
The minute they were dismissed Hogan made his way into Klink’s office, blowing straight past Hilda at her desk and just about tearing Klink's door down.   
  
“What the hell was that all about?” Hogan demanded as soon as he entered, furiously ripping off his hat and making sure Klink saw him drop it onto the spiked helmet. “After everything you did to me last night— everything I  _let_  you do to me— you're still gonna cut me down like that? In front of my men, no less, after I trusted you and told you how I’ve been struggling with them.”   
  
Klink waited for him to finish, smoothing his hands over a ream of papers laid out on his desk like he'd already been at it for hours. He didn't seem especially heated. In fact, he was calmer than ever and a slight smile showed on his face despite his stern words.   
  
“Your behavior this morning was unacceptable. You must know by now that I am quite enamored of you, Robert. Regardless, I still have a prison camp to run. You  _are_  sloppy in front of your men. Perhaps that is the source of your problems with them.”  
  
A tense silence fell over the room. Hogan could not believe the brutal honesty coming from this man. The audacity to call him by his first name like a lover while scolding him like a superior officer. He realized quickly that this was not a matter worth arguing. His frustration lay in the lack of affection from Klink rather than what he was saying.   
  
“You really wore me out last night.” Hogan tried a different approach. “I didn't realize I was so exhausted. You made me feel incredible. I forgot for just a little while that I was locked up here.”

 

“Thirteen minutes.” Klink looked up from his desk just in time to catch Hogan's confused expression. No doubt he was heated about Klink once again cutting him down at roll call, but in truth it was no different than it ever was. Klink couldn't afford to go soft on Hogan— not now, not out in the open where everyone was rabid and willing to sell each other out for comfort or even freedom.

 

They had a secret between them now, one that could discredit either of the men in the positions and titles that they held. Klink would be damned if Hogan managed to get him removed from Stalag 13 by acting like a fool. He had already been thinking about what he'd do to him if he tried any such thing after the trust he had put in the American.   
  
“You test me too much, Robert.” Klink calmly removed his monocle and tucked it away before standing up to come around the desk where Hogan stood. He sat on the edge right in front of him, folding his arms and studying him with a warning glance he hoped Hogan would acknowledge as intimidating.  
  
“I'll be quite frank with you, I don't want problems today. Burkhalter is on his way to inspect the camp because of the fire, and the Gestapo will be conducting interrogations if it is deemed necessary. I need you and your men to be on your best behavior. Do not make a bigger mess of the situation than it already is.” Klink keened his eyes on Hogan as he talked business. Hogan seemed intent on getting a different reaction out of the kommandant, one that Klink was more than eager to give and unable to abstain from. He was already standing and making his way behind Hogan, his voice was hot and heavy against his ear.

“Your defiance will not be tolerated. You should set a better example for your men. You were thirteen minutes late to roll call today— put your hands on the desk.”  
  
Hogan wanted to react but couldn't. He wanted to mouth off but wouldn't. To Klink's surprise the man put his hands on the desk and leaned over them in silence.

 

The heavy crack a moment later of the kommandant's riding crop kissing his skin through the thin fabric of his pants was just one of twelve more he'd receive.

 

“Don't make a habit out of being late.” Klink smacked him again, harder. He knew that it must have hurt tremendously from the bruises he had left the night before, but his feelings for Hogan would not obscure his directive. Several more heavy hits were made before Klink was bold enough to lean over his body, an arm sliding around his waist to grab at his chest.   
  
“Behave today.” He hissed into the Colonel's ear, shocking him again with another clap of leather against his thighs this time. “If you don't, I'll throw you into the Cooler until I say you are ready for more.” More of what? Klink had plans but wasn't about to discuss them. Soon a car was pulling in through the guarded gates, the camp alive outside of his office. It would only be a matter of minutes before both of them should be in their respective places.   
  
“We are both prisoners here, you and I. You'd be better off remembering that, Hogan.” 

Hogan gripped the edge of the desk until his knuckles were white. Thirteen blows. He counted each one and tried to focus on quieting his whimpers. He was already sore from yesterday, and sober enough to feel the full sting of the thin leather strip. At the same time his heart raced. By the tenth swing he was seeing white. After the thirteenth he lamented that it was over so soon. He straightened up and rubbed his sore ass, trying to stay composed despite the heat rising to his face.   
  
He couldn't deny that Klink was right. He'd already taken a risk spending a night out of the barracks without an excuse in case someone asked. Too much special attention and he could count on someone getting wise. Klink, as both a basic fink and a homosexual, had his own ways of sneaking through life; Hogan knew he had a lot of catching up to do so he'd follow the rules as far as he needed in order to get his way. But he'd push them whenever and wherever he could. Nothing had changed between him and Klink, it had only become more interesting.   
  
“Thank you, Herr Oberst.” He said nicely. Then, relaxed a little, and offered Klink a calculated and dangerous look. “You know, you make it pretty hard for a guy to want to behave. That little whip of yours is more of a reward than a punishment.”

  
  
Before Klink could reply the door swung open and Schultz announced General Burkhalter's arrival. Hogan winked at his kommandant and slid out of the office not unlike a snake through grass.   
  
“Morning, General,” he saluted casually at the wide officer but kept his head down.   
  
Burkhalter watched him through the corner of his eye.

“Colonel Hogan.” He greeted flatly. “How good to see you are in high spirits. I would like to have a talk with you today, but it can wait until later… when Major Hochstetter arrives.”   
  
Hogan froze at the front door. A mischievous spark was lit in his belly. It was a fire by the time he turned on his heel, and he gazed behind the general to meet Klink's eyes and let him feel some of the flames.   
  
“I'll be there, General. The boys and I have been greatly anticipating your visit.” He smiled and hoped his horns weren't showing. “Of course, we wouldn't want to ruin a surprise, would we Kommandant?”

  
  
Hogan slammed the door behind him just as Klink was beginning to apologize and stammer about having no knowledge of any surprises, planned or unplanned. He couldn't wait to find out how many lashes the comment would earn him, but then again, the day was just getting started. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter summary:  
> Hogan sneaks back to the Barracks and is woken up for roll call by Carter. He talks to Carter and is generally feeling better, but is surprised when Klink doesn’t let him off easy for being late to roll call. When he confronts him Klink explains that he can’t go too easy on him as the kommandant just because of their relationship; he ‘disciplines’ Hogan for being late by spanking him with the riding crop. Burkhalter arrives at camp and Hogan gets a head start on causing trouble. The end!


End file.
